Frugality

wanted to send a call to me sitting in a flowing traffic of life, a sinister, sadistic happiness to see the disasters coming home, in triangle of death, for visitation of a nihilistic visual, the wedding of taxidermal violence, at scope of frugal clay, moulding the age of anxiety because there were enough girls to be raped and hunger was disconnecting the tribes in camps, the bunkers were safe haven for daunting, unremembered prodigal sons; the vultures were dying daily, you were outcast, a sleepwalker in dark, confronting the boundaries of labiate palms SATISH VERMA