It seems abhorrent, so profane, the attempt at articulation of pulse but then again, there is no alternative to communication now, is it? As the sea and the sea of sand engulf the space I nervously saunter on, I fidget to figure out the unease that palls my heart—the trembleintheeye .
My friend, my bane, with a towering frame, we are together for better or for worse, for now.
Within the veins that run gasoline, do you not see the the beatifiction of a million maggots and the illoveries they chew and threw?
I wonder about this face of yours, this taste of yours for the knife.
On thurstday night, the parasitynight you paint it bright with flashyflash, in a gluttering dash.
You look so proud so incessantly cared only to watsch it all scared lest I hear the deafeatning howl—horrolific ululation from a plundered ghoul.
As I pack my bags and we bid adieus, I question the relationship we have (Or rather you have with so many of us Pakkhiwases). I am not oblivious to the irony: I feed the monster I deride.