Braiding the Destiny

The time will not heal. The aging looks. Erotica. Each scream ends in a dry river. Who had the right to deliver the needle and a silk thread ? Sometimes I will read you for the signs of remorse. There was this rigid wrinkle which will not move on the face. It will not matter if the grief overwhelms. The scare was real. Regurgitation. The bell will not ring today. The pod splits to release the seeds. Come my mentor. I have tested the floor, smelled the rope. The translation should end tonight. Satish Verma