Criminality

Code of the veil was darkening. You were searching for an unwritten message in bandanna. Rot was setting in flesh. Sludge was becoming a stone for an unmoving stream. The talks had failed. Hand-grenades will explode in shouts later on, to resume the protocol of death. Where we are going in evening of woods ? To go searching for the sapient ancestors, in city of fingers ? Years were rolling by in fog. The arguments were climbing on the black hills to meet a drunk god. Satish Verma