Rage

The Metaphors entangled and whirling in my mind I can't write; extravagant conceit is locked in that street symbols in that stick that sucked our blood Laughing in that back row that jealousy and envy ceased my smile when that symbol cuddled that metaphor you aroused my love when I used to spin around your eyeballs Escaping from the prison holding your hand lost in little things of untrodden ways every step was our home forgetfulness our refugee homework of that prison under the light of candle left the homework and playing with the candle dreams of that prison still haunting that stick, that jailer, that slow watch wiped away when our mind used to rotate back and forth in that madness