….antichrist….
Unequivocally…my mornings are growing older….
A strange out cry from a lonely soul..
This morning is pricking me beyond my blood…
Its spattering without a shade.
I remember of the stone which carried the weight.
The frozen winter dew…
Its hard to border feelings,my heart…
To keep a cognitive mapping,
I fear, when they are going to chain me beyond landscapes…
Its gradually becoming an existential angst…a pain………..a strange out cry.
The train has a chain,my mind has a chain…beyond any ideologies..
it moves beyond my fallen orders .
Justifies to gulp all those lacrimals yet to born….
i wish for a rain…to laugh with the world.
To forsake my wound…it hurts to death, when the fall drops on the vaccum of my flesh.
I was providing a dark destination for you to rest….. an interstitial space

when you wanted to make your remembrance beyond ages piercing the hymen,tearing the nerves and grinding the teeths...

The red made patches in the off white cotton,

embarked with the reminiscence of a lost identity,

the rust started spreading in the bromium brown and the white othering the red.

the red has penetrated to the depths...
Antichrist..antichrist…antichrist…
The pelting snow has given some sunken violets from a hill
Strange out cry…that is my aversion,the stems are ruined,nothing to speak about roots…
But the flower forbid to give up the best smiles even from a venomous aroma….

It pukes me….pukes a lot.