Pale Red Dots Poem by Satish Verma
Pale Red Dots
After watching an honour
killing, moon slept
on the dirtroad.
Thinking about god
and blood game, I was
upset. I don't find any
difference.
The stings. Always
bleed my hands, when
I collect the honey
from your lips.
No memes. It
was factual. The darkness
feeds the mouth of sun.
It was an absolute bliss!
Thursday, March 21, 2019
Topic(s) of this poem: poem
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5/7/2024 12:52:00 PM # 1.0.0.1119
