Rain scatter, smell
of fruits and armies
of centipedes.
Somewhere a shaft of light
narrows into a path driven insanity. Shrivelled. Narrow alleys, lanes.
Everything. The narrowness disturbs me as the light penetrates into
houses that have no roofs.
Insanity. Me, you completely. The beggar there throws his bowl around, to catch quick response. No one responds. Only insanity wraps it’s warm shawl to cover truths.
