Bickering lights. Flamingoes
with pink cancer grasping
their throats. Oars
wrestling blue waters to
hold the boat's
echelon on the sea.
Traffic jam of thoughts,
bundled up in
sacks, rooms, on
beds and pillows bursting
open cotton feathers.
Cold dead mats on the
floor after countless
stirs of autopsy.
Coiled snake noise
driving like screw
into our cork ears
to mine those
tambourines out.
Goddess grows a hair
of fire, huts burn
and apply kerosene
balms on our spirits.
Saffron flowers bearing
moons, plaintain leaves
in rainy emotions
cannot bring out rope-
length and speeches.
Leave them as they are,
unprovoked by routes of descriptions...

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