I am selling my age.
Going stone in market. Honestly
I have exhausted my thoughts.
Midnight syndrome begins.
The salt of my lips had disappeared.
A cruciform face hangs in the air
IS this inertia of the brain?
I am conscious of the yellow moon.
Howling of the wolves will start.
YOU ARE READING
Satish Verma Poems
诗歌Satish Verma is ferociously original. You feel resentment, outrage and violence, cannot pin it down but wonderfully spin your brain. Satish has the greatest sensibility which sweetly exploits the delicacies of human conflicts. You are taken aback. T...
