Metal clashing, food frying
in the air mingled with
drugs and perfumes of
mirth alongside the tinkling
sounds of nymphgirls
spilling out of crowded
doorways kicking up the
concourse with a
definite motion
individually, but
also collectively
they sigh.


All kinds of living entities
would bring something
due to his bondage
the rippling of the sea
changed his body over
as the wind passed over
him he binds himself more
with the other spared lifeforms
a cycle of birth and death-
of human life.


Overhead the moon was within
the night had deserted it.


The sun was at its zenith
a priest or shaman in the
sky was a dark blue
below him- no, below the
outsider- who had nothing
to learn- who had no love
for the sensation. There
was that thing we could not see.
He pulled the rope almost losing
his grip- pain with tears- he
took up the performance, but
not fatally, fell thinking.


The world wants paperthin skins
he thought as his feet so reluctantly
found nothing below him- the force
on can turn to psychologically keep on
falling inside this fragile hole of


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