Poetry

The freak accident 
of a paranormal mystic, begins 
a telekinesis in the dark room 
to internalize the chopped off 
obsession of sex. 
 
You will be needed as a 
fugitive now, in the 
muddle of passions. There was 
a complete lull before the storm. 
A pindrop silence. 
 
An anxiety starts, of- 
becoming nothing, in the comfort 
zone. The roots look up 
at the lunar month, to bail out 
the loner, convicted of sedition.