The Quartered Dependence کے بول

Narrow dream in the lost storm of words Dumb herds of sonorous grumbles Killed colonies of utopian sheets A vault of narrow corners A pulp multiplied with unyieldness A sight of dark vacuum Wild, infernal desires And you spun by a prose of mockery I rose as cold as abyss I emerged with invidious smile Of my creative body Empty your eyes at dawn Shy splutter of illuminated tears Your body trembling and small Again you fall down like a broken glass Covered procession of besmeared cares Threatening whispers of masked brothers Silent lusts beaten by a torn heart And fingernails driven into a coffin lid Fabulous angel somewhere on a dream screen Old fruits of bitter words Minds stuck to the gospel of threats I hiss like a pulpy grain I sprout in a concrete grip Yesterday I was a stream Today I'm a dam Overturned I'm vomiting in a whirl Night rocks the gray curtains Your little flame goes out What do you crush an infant for? Driving a nail Into the eyes Why do you lie building a sand race?