Svāhā

Enters the smoke of horror
Talking stops shooting
Silence demonises metaphoring
Fire scavenges at the bottom
You don't want to smoke, Unsmoken?
Time bypassing who computes with the clouds
Bye passing time where are you going now
Practice makes Perfect.

Sweet art of mine
The performance is on
Long time ago
The music stopped playing
They are all talking
Silence is struggling
Struggling for a voice
Finds him lying,Talking
Lying dead in the noise

Con-uh-sure

Is the only piece of complete art for the expert managing to find only incomplete pieces, his clone?

Escaping

Tunnels too many on offer
Recoiling and choking
Can recoil no further
Faces were once calling
Was good your whistling
Only their drowning
Humming to the horizon
Nothings being the only somethings
Exclamation masking the question
Intensity of your vanity
LHS of depression and RHS of inspiration
Fighting for equality
The mirror feeds on reflection
Stranger strangering at the stranger
Taking turns on solipsistic sufferings
Tunnels in the background
The mirror wants to break down