Gray Dawn

Sudden onset of an insertion going for a kill in bluish green valley. Pretend as if you are dead and start disintegrating. Your poverty of words disconnects you from cogitation and you start- walking in sleep. Cannot reach the breasts jutting out like pine cones – dismantling the invasion. You start manipulating the seeds. Fruits are nowhere in sight. The risk is grave crossing the borders of virginity. Pure aching and one thousand moons. I have not reached the gates of truth. Satish Verma