Calamity-Shock

Silence came roaming
tired of the pestilence of an endemic outbrake
persecuting every infantile goal that is harmless
which has been the light to the squeling organs.

I keep myself, 
stored with the twin solitude
misanthropic, eremetic
packed like sardines in a bag of bones quavering
I believe that I lost my plenitude foolishly
as a inflammable oil to the flame growls wrathful. 

With secretive flanges, 
give to the soul a nice speech
a positive one it can't deny of.

Her parallel subterranes yearning to rotate costless, 
the hopeless misery of her pestilential penumbra.
Impale these, the inarticulate plunders, 
turn a blind eye to the revolutionary youth's bar-code and anguish.