Poetry

Lethal mix 
of blood ties― before 
a fugue delivers its tremors. 
A rage visits with the dark voices... 
 
Reverberating in death chamber. 
 
Heat seeking― the missile 
goes straight into the heart of the Himalayas. 
 
I am still recovering― 
from the eternal fires― of biligual nights. 
 
I am transfixed― 
in my shoes― facing shoulder 
fired― a sentence ejecting its hate.