I Am Drunk On the Hemlock

My lips are black, I am drunk on the hemlock, proferred by you – my life. I am still in love with pain. What not, the trial tried to break my resistance. I will walk on my hands paraplegic legs lifting my eyes. Why did you want me to fake a death. She was my lover, my shadow always walking along with me. So, you did not authored the article on my demise in ravines watching the son eclipse? Extinct, headless, corpse of a thin warrior, obliquely refers to the pygmy moonrise. Grey plaques in white mind like snakeroots, glittering in dark gulleys of time! SATISH VERMA