Moon stepped gingerly on clouds.
Apples were painless.
Yes,
centrifugal goes the truth on a ploy,
unveiling the sky.
Pain of the dreaded times,
was visible through the invisible.
Tremors in the mountain range were palpable
passing through the spine of faithful.
I am not.
But I am non-beliver in me.
A real transcript of a restless syndrome.
The oranges fly in all directions to gallows
for humor.
A false poem.
Sexless.
The uranium was getting rich.
Bang, the hypocrisy again rules
amidst the shaved heads.
Exactly
the truth lives far away.
