Being a bed-ridden soul
for days were not so boring
except that weakness overgrown herself
on my body.

a woman who always sees
followed up by the ogling eyes
in a lecherous manner
like a passing by sheep …..

Believe me!
the anger of that moment overgrows
with an ingrained lesson
of the old mother
to let these termites feed themselves
with prurient curiosity and reach the fag end
of their being.

I always let things go.
For indifference is a brilliant knife
cutting bastards
here and there
into two halves of their existence –
The pretended virtuosity
and teeming wickedness.

They burn endlessly
for their dual existence


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