Art

Indulging in self-obsessed navel watch for greedy eyes like a cloud of saliva around the amygdale, they walk on sands fudging, seizing contradictions, smelling of raw flesh and salt, an extinction spring. The seeds are floating an parachutes between the burnt-out lures. Everything splits into sparks charging the air. The guilt looms large, arches like an octopus, riveting before an artful design. Just one lump of sugar on peripheral fields to dilate the pupils in dark baking the bones. Let us swim up to the wall, wild in our groins tie up the shoelaces and climb the portrait. SATISH VERMA