"Woman"
Where amidst the storm,
You decided to stoop.
For what gold and beef,
You stoop near the pillory.
Why Amidst the scar of hounds,
You decided not to draw sword,
And bleed from beneath and within.

Love for broken glasses,
Though it bleed,
Was her own choice.
To live in the broken dreams,
Was her choice?
"Better a compulsion of love,
To bleed and love."

Love the smell between toned thighs?
Smell it till it stinks so bad,
Then would you eat what lies behind.
If for sake of love,
Stinks so worse still makes you mad,
Slouch down and pull your hands out.
Love may be it for you fell prey to stink.
Love the uncut smile, drowsy breast?
Lay on the ***** till it feels hard,
Then would you press on to it.
If for sake of love,
One that ***** is heart still hugs you,
Close your eyes and lay on the *****.
Love maybe it for you fell pray to hardness.

Pain near her ******
She puked twice and fainted once,
Still aching and reddening.
Pain too chronic-
That began as he born,
With head out and nails,
To severe the home.
The umbilical chord,
That he held from home,
Is now withered,
The rope that strangles her face.
The pain so heavy,
Stained with his blood-unbearable but bears.
Still she breast-feeds his dreary canine.

Love is a need.
A need for catastrophe,
Within self and another soul.
Love, but a social need,
For transactions,
That arts illusion in mind.
Thus love is a need of illusion.