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Dissolving Holiness

Becoming blind in lightless depth; between the faults we meet. Moving the wheels. I was the sound;- spreading across the unspoken epiphany. Flirting with inevitable doom, you crash on the poems of – raging green. A tongue wants a novelty of death, in the arms of the frozen light. Satish Verma

Copyright © | Year Posted 2014




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Book: Shattered Sighs