It was a fractured miscarriage. 
The system groaned like a huge cow. 
We milked her till human thirst chopped the teats. 
I belong to no glamour, 
my faults burn like classics. 
Total freedom will come 
when I am through. 

The dates creep under the skin, I faint, 
The tiny minims shine on my lips. 
The symbols crash. 
Me and my shadow bubbling with 
the smell of poems, 
I come back to arguments. 
To justify the Armageddon 
of first & last love. 

How could it happen? 
The fear has death, as a lover. 
I sleep with it every night. 
The demolition of memory, it sweats like a black cloud. 
There is no religion in desires, 
choiceless destruction of each dawn.

Satish Verma