A very crude question,
I will ask. What kind of...

In final journey, there
was a collective guilt...

You evoke the desire.
I break like bougainvillea leaves...

After euthanasia,
I was conversing with a ghost...

In your painting the
silence of death was very loud...

A rose on your name shines,
like a mural painting...

You were not a god?
in panic, seeking an asylum...

Washed-up your
facial nuance, like jellyfish...

It was restless mind
and I ask you something...

Under deadly nightshade
we met for the first time...

For feeding a false tree
of life, beheading...

Deadpan. Far off an
explosion. First a lull, then...