WINGED GALAXIES

All in futility
I bawl upon omnibus
volume upon volumes
Frisking pages after pages
The burnt smell of
methodical texts, written
line by line
paragraph by paragraph
Upon a beleaguered silence
Lurking somewhere
Below the rhymes
Down the lines
Feigning verses
with unruly vibes

Though I pervade
My own nackedness
Yet I feel the dark spot
That, pain has left a mark on it
Taking a grip to my soul
Unsure of what is, to BE
And, what not to BE
And yet, 'am fettered upon it
Whirling winged galaxies
Universe by universe
Darker ever darker