BLOOD-SLICK HANDSThe planes of his mindAre busy, bees flittingAnd darting in pink and lavenderPuffs to bleed their beautifulEntrails across easel afte... easel:The Crucifixion,The Trial of Socrates,The Apocalypse Postponed,Giger shapes, sinuous and suggestiveAs loose lyrics soaked in butterTo facilitate their slideDown parched and aching throats;There is an end to all thingsBut the sadness at the pit of my soul,The honeybee's black wasp nightmareAnd the secret of honeyed hives.COULD HAVE, WOULD. That day evening i returned as if from the ration store of ours,she bought me coffee,sipping i asked her to sit down,i told her”mom i know whats happening between you and suresh and i want it to stop”.there was no response,not that i expected one. Night after dinner i followed mom to her room,she asked in a weak voice,”what is it?”.i showed her into her bed room.pinned her to wall to smell her scent,oh was she hot i never realized in all these days that she is also a woman,having cravings,her. More

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