Monday, August 15, 2016

Faith, I have in the human in you.

The human in you.
Skeletal or flesh wrapped.

Where is the soul?
Where are your thoughts headed to?

Prancing, right!
Ahead of time, ahead of memories that sink.

I like the five pockets on your moulted skin.
From where you pull out different set of smiles for different occasions.
Oh, yes!
Shed it like the serpent does.
The outgrown will be replaced by the real.
When the circle of the serpent’s life repeats inside you,
The sanctorum of my mind will be buried in the winter’s wrath.

Under the snow,
Under the mud,

Under that nowhere that was never found.

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