India

I ask God for rest, summer within a lover's storm, don't i feel blessed, swinging dangerously, with her raging metaphors, the trouble start with me, howling with tremendous zest, her insults grow enormous, I shudder at my breakfast, she’s a lightning seed, gives a thunderous performance, audience at her own epiphany, just before this Dejeuner fest, music roars from her Beatbox, her roars brook no digress, I struggle to break free, act like I'm not born pour more black coffee, like a Brechtian palimpest, she hurtles to the door, I pray he please arrest, this unholy semaphore ?