Scythe of a moon
swings, between tall...

Trying to face fiction,
poetry was falling apart...

You wanted to possess me
and I sought to...

A fear stalks you
in the dead city of broken paths...

Nudging the contempt,
he wanted to become...

Fear is on rise.
How long would you live with that...

The moment of truth
for a flower seller...

Yearning to reach you
like out of body experience...

Cause of things?
finding in myself in solitary...

For image breaking
I exile myself...

Not scared by stings
I will carry you in river to...

Nothing to think for,
at this moment. Faceless fears...