OF LANGUAGE, OF LANGUAGE, OF LANGUAGE, OF LANGUAGE, OF LANGUAGE, OF LANGUAGE, OF LANGUAGE

OF LANGUAGE, OF LANGUAGE, OF LANGUAGE, OF LANGUAGE

, OF LANGUAGE, OF LANGUAGE, OF LANGUAGE

The particulate allegories

were tossed around.

The wheels had refused

to exit.

Unscathed, phrases

were erupting in pulses.

There was flame and ice

Inherent -

in the silicate of

wedded friendship.

Who was afraid of the bed

in heydays

of thorns down the roses?

An endless journey for the

bleeders in labyrinthine life

of yes and no.

Satish Verma

-------------------------

OF LANGUAGE

The particulate allegories

were tossed around.

The wheels had refused

to exit.

Unscathed, phrases

were erupting in pulses.

There was flame and ice

Inherent -

in the silicate of

wedded friendship.

Who was afraid of the bed

in heydays

of thorns down the roses?

An endless journey for the

bleeders in labyrinthine life

of yes and no.

Satish Verma

-------------------------

OF LANGUAGE

The particulate allegories

were tossed around.

The wheels had refused

to exit.

Unscathed, phrases

were erupting in pulses.

There was flame and ice

Inherent -

in the silicate of

wedded friendship.

Who was afraid of the bed

in heydays

of thorns down the roses?

An endless journey for the

bleeders in labyrinthine life

of yes and no.

Satish Verma

-------------------------

OF LANGUAGE

The particulate allegories

were tossed around.

The wheels had refused

to exit.

Unscathed, phrases

were erupting in pulses.

There was flame and ice

Inherent -

in the silicate of

wedded friendship.

Who was afraid of the bed

in heydays

of thorns down the roses?

An endless journey for the

bleeders in labyrinthine life

of yes and no.

Satish Verma

-------------------------

OF LANGUAGE

The particulate allegories

were tossed around.

The wheels had refused

to exit.

Unscathed, phrases

were erupting in pulses.

There was flame and ice

Inherent -

in the silicate of

wedded friendship.

Who was afraid of the bed

in heydays

of thorns down the roses?

An endless journey for the

bleeders in labyrinthine life

of yes and no.

Satish Verma

-------------------------

OF LANGUAGE

The particulate allegories

were tossed around.

The wheels had refused

to exit.

Unscathed, phrases

were erupting in pulses.

There was flame and ice

Inherent -

in the silicate of

wedded friendship.

Who was afraid of the bed

in heydays

of thorns down the roses?

An endless journey for the

bleeders in labyrinthine life

of yes and no.

Satish Verma

-------------------------

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