It is not real
realizing the real
lying for lie
balancing in the middle
...
...jingle...bell....jingle...bell...
...kye...kye...bye...bye...
...repeating and repeating...
...couldn't learn anything...
...
I painted the canvas
with my death
the brush got struck
in few colours
...
The melodious rhythm
in the water of that
fortunate lake
...
The cuttlefish bone skeleton
remains at the end of the street
the green blood turns to
...
Unquestionable sharpness
shattered in fragments
blunt pieces poke
the power of cut
...
The solemn funeral
took place in the
humid desert
trail of mourners
...
could be a beautiful woman on the earth
could be a handsome man in the world
or could even be a barking dog of that neighbour
or could also be that hissing snake there
...