A smoke on the corridor bench

A winter midnight creeps in,

An army of dogs that howls aloud;

Breaks the silence of the night of mine,

Where I sit on the corridor bench with baba beside.

Hellish beats of the heart

Pierces my orgasmic mind,

And nervy streams of my hand flatters me

To lift the delicately lying little baba.

Ah! The smell I say its

Like the one I have lusted for ages.

It says, “May I come in?”

As I place it on my dry rusted lips.

So it goes flushing through my throat inside

Like a sea where hellions bathe.

But kills every agony of me inside

During its gracious return.

I open my red swollen eyes.

A cold breeze slaps away my face

And spot the peck of light from a distant hill.

And I say to myself

“What a night it’s been tonight!”

Where I still lay on the corridor bench with baba beside.