SHANGHAIED

And, in a swirling again, the creative night
Flirted, bending and twisting corpuscles of silence
Rather at subterranean ease;
The parsimonious air hunted the radiowave
And it stayed unwillingly, beyond destinations.
I did’nt wonder why the cockroach was so
Vindictive, disturbing a riverine lucidity
Probably as it survived million frontiers
But I disavowed the murder of Darwin. Then
I renewed the air in oriental music-of nectarine cadence
And it turned unpalatable in poignant moisture
Leaving a culpable fiction- gathered from a popular dust.
My patience, yet corrupted with fermentation
Spiralled bristles of anecdotal fantasy
To drive the moon as cool as a cucumber
Seemingly, it could relieve a few corrosion
And I grew superstitious again at the
Necessity of approval in my morning distillation.