sad nerves
retired spirit
I ask is there something left
mud house
plastered with rotten up soil
the fragrance of being
exotica it speaks.
it belies
beliefs forbidden
narrow paths
I curve hard
to understand
what it means
Where sun shines
heat is scorching
mud house
I again see
if it makes a sense
it says
I have had enough
with senses.
I stop short
to interrupt
its empire
I know
its not
the reach
forbidden
I look
somewhere
where its
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