Like a London smog or
an Indie dog
the wilding heart began racing and musicking.
Thought
it was a virtual reality show. I guess
sometimes atoms of long dead people in me
take over.
There was no perfect map
to decode the movement of madness.
Time at times paralyses us. Just to
feel the blood ageing and caging.
I want to see the end of history
not of nations but of me.
to see whether the slave has salvation
in store at least after few chores.
My mind is god’s own county
with no bounty for me.
Thy Vox 
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