This ink of my voice that slips through my tips, cautious, not to disturb my prints;
wrote to me,
'Yours is yet another font.'

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DANCING THREATS

In the extreme dark of night, a girl walking slowly & slowly , the knocking of her heels against the tar echoing in the essence of the air as an unusual silence just like the quietness before the storm, an unsended invitation to the lustees hiding right somewhere looking for the best moment to do their work. The very next moment she felt an anonymous hand touching her shoulder , the shrick of fear remained inside seeing the life threatening arms, the night is dark but the sun is more bright , the unlistened scream is not bounded anymore but is not there in the vocal anymore
& they, who the so called society is still there to deepen the scars of fear with their sarcastic ironical mentions of going out alone in the dark.
Is there someone to lighten the pain, to lighten up the burden of mishappening
, Ya say this impotent society ,
Is this for real , Oh come'n are you human for real?

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