What happened? I would
ask the realness
of genocidal face.
...
Burning the pages
unread.
A daunting task
to rebuild the bruised relic,
...
To you, I
send my silence,
before the fire starts, to engulf
the open barn.
...
You drape me, with wet kisses
O moon.
I will not forget you
in freezing rain.
...
A soft, but me,
black moon
coming in bazaar.
Will you sell me the dreams?
...
To become or not to become a renegade,
or to die or not to die for a semi-god?
...
I will gather you―
through the uproar,
when moon picks up the sneaky path,
from dizzying heights
...
Night comes like a
black dog
around the corner.
...
Between the hope and
betrayal lies the truth-
a terra cotta version
of time.
...
Poised to confront
the improvised explosive device
of winds,
...