Strange Dreams

The icon, 
is a smoky gem, 
like a random stone, hiding 
a jewel. 

You become an ex; 
throwing the gauntlet 
over the frozen 
shoulder. 

Everything glides 
around you. I am sinking 
in Bermuda Triangle. 

The trembling hands 
groping for― 
the coral reef under the water. 

The tiger will not 
sleep tonight. You cannot 
shut the eyes, when 
I am being pit-roasted.