Like a mole, she was
coming up, tunneling...

Again, I remember you intensly
in dark night...

You are trying to
seel the half-truths...

The night shift starts.
A moonbeam comes and lies...

Becoming something from anything
was a great bliss of paradigm...

Giving yourself,
a gift of trash, you were...

Beyond the gaze there is a time zone
of rumored agitation...

Your hands
start a fire...

There should not have been
any question marks on your...

Coming back with
nipples and fangs, all...

The water breaks.
Do you hear the voices...

It was not ending, not beginning
this fracas...