Going back foot
he looked inside himself and felt a breeze...

Inside me, I take a turn.
By tightening the noose...

No more venom for me. My throat is full
and sore is spurting...

There was no beginning
no ending...

I stay connected out of the body,
with fireworks...

An evening primrose glides,
on my rough hands...

Go forth alone, as a beast,
as a bird, as a fish...

A stand-off between grass and moon
marginalized the perfume of night...

A lifetime with a classic pain,
does not give me peace or freedom...

Joining the names,
a nameless melancholia crosses a borderland...

The matrix drinks the words,
in the anonymity of opaque meanings...

Your truth always happened at wrong time
You were guilty of telling lies to death...