By Waqas Naeem

Not a sentence came to completion
and starved of words
he waited in the symphonies
that now flurried in the music of silence;
an adorable aberration to speech.
The dance, in vain delight,
of circumcised vowels
and chopped consonants
glued to the upper wall of his mouth
and his tongue didn't move
out of fear of taste of reluctant adage
So he blinked, instead
and saw twisted dialogues shred
in tones of cunning eyes
that signalled deep dark lies...