Black Script

After the skin, the corti were trying to measure the silence before the cloudburst. The white noises were very accurate, disciplined shouts ready to pull down the stapes. A cochlear fall from the great heights of vesuvian peak. No matter how big was the chasm. You have given up yourself to broken stirrups. The planets begin the dance without the god Apollo. The road never ends. The rider stands alone to ride the moon gliding over the empty sea. Satish Verma