Schism

After being robbed you want to hide your poverty, like sex. Someone is going to flaunt the kisses of moon. The sinking of twin islands in lake begins. Claspers were poised to hold on the tree- house. The privacy was threatened. Nobody will conceive tonight. The erotica wins, temple fails. A lone wolf smells the wind, invades the obscene closet of a god to find locusts riding on each other devouring one’s own. Satish Verma