Ideation Poem by Satish Verma

A fuzzy fear descends.
You become ensconced―
in the smell of a
paranoia.

The saltcutter will forego
the idiosyncrasy
and start collecting the oil
from the dome.

A stain on the shirt
spreads, covers
the heart in distress.
Codas were waiting.

Do not burn the book.
Go in a lily pond for a ―
script. The different shades
of flesh will be revealed.

The divine sin will ask
for a retribution for ―
the withdrawl syndrome.