6 february 2023
Hope In Undoing
Stay till end of
my poem, for
dying sun.
Howling winds searched
my body, my soul
when I stood alone.
The blue scorpion knows
its religion. That was predation.
Landfall for hungry.
If the blood leaks,
the victim sings for moksha.
Milking starts.
The golden leaves
are peeled off from the moon.
No night was safe.
24 november 2024
0018absynt
24 november 2024
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24 november 2024
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24 november 2024
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24 november 2024
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