The milk run appears like
flesh trade. A bigamous
marriage with two ideologies.
The politics looks like
a fudged slogan. The silence
was broken by screams.
A dwindling faith, could
not revive the ancient Buddha.
There was no pity, no sorrow.
Activism wades on home―
turf. The colossal night
releases the lynx vision.
I am the cipher, you
said, will not connect
to any integer.
Feb 22, 2017
Feb 22, 2017 at 10:53 PM UTC
The milk run appears like
flesh trade. A bigamous
marriage with two ideologies.
The politics looks like
a fudged slogan. The silence
was broken by screams.
A dwindling faith, could
not revive the ancient Buddha.
There was no pity, no sorrow.
Activism wades on home―
turf. The colossal night
releases the lynx vision.
I am the cipher, you
said, will not connect
to any integer.