Thursday, March 14, 2013

The Malang



the flesh
ages
the soul
remains
young
the cosmic
silence of
of a sheepish
tongue
poetic
paroxysms
heaving
lungs
once
bitten
twice shy
of being
stung
a living
corpse
rising
amorphous
from
the dung
holding on
forever
to her
memory
his mind
unsung
a heart
she had
nurtured
than one
day out
on the
streets
she flung
among
razor sharp
bristles
of pain
a weed
newly
sprung

By -

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