A Lone Warrior

Satish Verma

You have put up the price on your shirt. 
I have started seeing the return 
of the death instinct. The curtain falls 
on profile of joy, of giving away. 

A solid swelling of clotted ego 
of antimatter shows frugality 
in spending of laughter. It was 
a total consumption of beautiful lips. 

That was that, of hollowness of globes 
and golden peacocks. A seed of mildew 
implants a kiss on the nakedness of greed. 
How far the want will go in dark 

for the scent of transgression? 
Today I am going to meet a blind angel.