29 may 2020
Ascending Paresis
This was the art of killing.
From the dizzying
heights you throw the
vesicants.
Now you need the gliomas
to finish the job.
At wrong time, I was
raising the bizarre questions.
Why the wealth brings-
the change of life?
A wandering pain
caves in, where the moon
looks sick in its paleness.
The massive lies, deep
in dirty tricks after the traffic
of voices.In blank space
I plant my poem.
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