First instinct of its over-chilled winds felt deeply suspicious
Of their oddity in hidden stores and sinistrous hints in blink
They smelt exceedingly floral like bunches of night jasmine bait
hitting over the burnt cheeks out of scorches and sweats for weeks, 
still stuck with obnoxious traces pleading relief, now getting paid off

Emphatic slow-drumming mood-veterans with some diseased agenda
now ruin the set scenes more in drizzling that never knew an end spell

And, what now, even the steady circling eagle majesties are back in grey skies
Along with huge geckos running swift indoors after mysterious long disappearances
Tiny green smelly field bugs are misplaced home nocturnal sapping lappy screens
Further worse, a single hovering housefly kissing nose-tip and forehead, for what?

Is it a short passing scene of transition towards habitable times or just a grave
beginning of hostility that would get inhuman as it gets going more in brutal tilts
Shivers from these strange strains blocks nasal ways and prick throat in pains
Pathetic carriers of soul suffers setback in what seems a downfall towards doom

pic courtesy:


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