The Biometrics Poem by Satish Verma

The freak accident
of a paranormal mystic, begins
a telekinesis in the dark room
to internalize the chopped off
obsession of sex.

You will be needed as a
fugitive now, in the
muddle of passions. There was
a complete lull before the storm.
A pindrop silence.

An anxiety starts, of-
becoming nothing, in the comfort
zone. The roots look up
at the lunar month, to bail out
the loner, convicted of sedition.