Satish Verma
Synaesthesia
Amygdala gives you
space. Rage implodes.
Hottest day gives a blast.
Burn, burn, O leaky
night. You suck the moon
with dust. Language
slips.
How will you invite
rains, without nightingale,
who had left for a
quantum revenge?
Visuals haunt. Ash
will fly. An old touch comes
back. Everything looks blue.
I start collecting old coins.
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