dissipating into the slivers of my being,

I hoist my head for a last look of galaxies,

before I cease to prevail, in these imperious,

instantaneous, ripped realms of reality,

and deflower my skin, into flagrant

deceivers… these seraphs of fantasy,

embracing the abode of my soul,

sanguineous shelters for my mind,

away from dispositions of the world,

unevaluated, I dwell in locus of lies


This is tagged as the poem for 20 November for NaBloPoMo.

There was a religious “conference” going on nearby. The loudspeakers were actually making me deaf. After about five hours of public display of the religious sentiments, it came to end and thus finally, I could write something. I have got a headache right now.

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