Enormous Guilt

Cannot stare coming on terror radar. Every night there was Celsius rise in deadpeace. The climate debt of a dark cloud was changing. What is going to happen, tell me blindfolded. We have a never or nothing attitude. The roads were on edge, grazing under a blood spinning midnight lamp, like a whipped up cream of convenient truths. A subterranean anger was banging against the wailing wall. We did little in our synchronized failure. Nobody was going to blink. A tooth was smashed by a flying missile of a homegrown myth. The glacier was shy of a black fire. A holy moon becomes opaque in white winter. Satish Verma