Retrospective Spasm


A science got delivered to me in a false alarm.
I can’t complain now digging the goldmine of a certain memory.

January was slapping the hips of Istanbul.

Let us; you and my blasted balls go there
hand in hand for savage intimacy.

Haven’t I been seeking?
A beautiful suspect!
While at last wars are being lashed out and death wipes off real faces,
I think of my own arse.

While millions are trying to endure and laugh
all my selfish wont wants is to be loved.


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