Poetry

Do you need a divine witness― 
if I abdicate a claim 
on you, saluting the dark? 
 
Drawing the ire of a void, 
the violence becomes visible― 
when earth starts dying. 
 
The completeness― will give 
you a rude welcome― after 
you were landuishing in wait. 
 
An intern surrogacy― 
defies the sexual assault of the 
gimmick. Why did not you 
swear in the moon? 
 
In jitters. I start― 
making circles again― and again. 
Will I remember― 
who am I?