Virtuous Or Vicious

No words, no thoughts, remained unkissed, unwed by a shapeless white death. Still under the spell, I squatter before the moon, peeling off, to receive the ultimate. I am trying, to find the roots, of unknown. Breaking protocol, for a moron liability, unclouding the dark sky. It was homecoming of a Michelangelo to repeat the performance. I want to write a dirty poem Satish Verma.