Thursday, November 10, 2011

Fantasy

I write terminally ill verses
today
Incurable says the physicians
yet, the sickness persists passionately.

I crave for divinity
and keep slaughtering gods
everyday.

my whimper echoes
on the stone walls
of ten by twelve.

the folks smirk distantly
at the distorted verses,
I laugh in delirium
I laugh ecstatic,
i laugh in fantasy.

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