Treasure Island

Satish Verma

(5-6-1935)

VISION


A brisling terror
tormenting the kelp.

Give me a lamenting mast
that will not go, fall.

In the groins
holding a promise,
a crazy god lowers
the wheel.

The absolute alcohol
in your nerves, you
want to light the
candle.

Smashing a dark
hole, which leads
to the brown
Mars

Submitted: Tuesday, September 24, 2013
Edited: Wednesday, September 25, 2013

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