Killing Zone

If you walk straight under the shadow of moon, to the salt lake death will blow a long whistle. Everything was ruined in war of words. There was no peace in the heart, even after meditation, the mind drove for the flesh, caressing neither blameless womb nor Oedipus. The dead forefathers goad the hypocrisy till the blood spurts out from the black navel of centuries and the forgiveness stands naked.