Satish Verma

Sperms and legacy. 
You scream for the justice 
for the space between words 
and sentences. 

I don't want to be separated 
from my half-eaten moon. 

Without a dance 
your anklets have broken into songs. 

Someone commands me― 
to sacrifice my pen. 

Hallucinatory- be seduced for the sake of fashion. 

In anguish I watch 
the terror was becoming a religion. 

Do you hear the voices 
coming from the crypts?

Satish Verma