Submitted by Tanya Singh

(i)     Methinks he reli-blood-shed obs(curity),
                             peels of ten-ebrosity delving
His musings perchance gainsay
       his desires,                         uncanny, un-dead,
I hear him, calling cats, and fishing, and fishing,
            he calls curiously cats in the dark alleys,
  after the resuscitating pescatarian hymns,

And I have always found him
                                        resting in shade,
                               Besides shade is
                                   a darkness too.
(ii)   he; the sanguinary faced isle/aisle
         doesn’t go down in his-to(r)y
                          like a legend, of warriors on the
          foothold of liberty;              chasing the mice
                          away from men,
           chasing the men
                                  away from mice of latent
             lords of dorm 69,
(iii)   fem-mine he thinks, ignorance is not
         a bliss for his innocent nieghbour-ess-que.
he; the iced tangerine of on(lie)ne texts,
and paperless romances of tech,
   pouring the beer from the bottle
down the throat after transcending the keg,
          like a treacherous warning, striding
from her hip to my mother’s tongue, and
(iv)   Whom he cheated; teachers (deciphered)
                                                    laugh in the face,
                        what-ever was left of; left-overs.




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