satishverma
Unwedded
Category: /General/
(457 views)
0
In final journey, there 
was a collective guilt.
To find an opus, I reach out
for a carbon pit.
It was not your grief
not my miracle. Collecting the
cadavers to sleep with―
for warmth.
Ashes, you poke at the
art. Except self-elevation
and grandiosity, what to discover
in the heap of refuse?
You start nibbling at your
clothes. The scream melts at
the stitchs. Style wavers,
you become naked.
Favorite Favorite Comment Comment Share Share
Report an item by sharing it with support.
© individual authors and creators. Create, Share and Profit at etastic.com.