Falling From A Precipice

Satish Verma

In a chilly moment 
a metaphysical shadow 

I start studying in 
granular detail, the substance― 
cause and knowing. 

The terrible. I become 
an executioner; climb down 
a tar pit to drown 
the skulls of peers. 

Everything goes in 
circinate mode. A ball 
of spines. You bleed, 
you ache. 

I want to go before 
a firing squad, for not 
remaining innocent.