Freaking Out

Satish Verma

Before the spill there was 
soaring. And then anti-g. 
I readied myself 
for the ultimate fall. 

This was the poetry of submission 
sharing the pain of disillusionment. 
Who was pretending of liberation 
in a see-through heart? 

This was the time when 
you run amok 
under pheromones of dead clones: 
the drowned dreams. 

Pelting stones at moon 
we were made for each other.

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