Morphed

What a long friendship with
moon!
I refuse to accept the blast.
Papa is dead, he said and
latched on to circularity.

I don't seek the interbreeding
with terror.
It was me in reverse mode
of cryptomania.

Too stoic; stop. I think
I am wrong; stop. And a serenade
for the lady luck. This life
was too much for me; stop.

Androgynous.
The female body wants to eat
maleness, by almond eyes.
The old man was walking barefoot
with a paintbrush.

poem by Satish Verma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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