And there was history
to map the terror. A neoplasm...

After seeding the clouds
they were going to buy wet lips...

A silent wrath sits in a pool
of blood, will start a battle...

O, how it was that
in freezing embrace...

Full of venom the -
sting will break on my breast...

Death will not measure
the height...

I was becoming older every day.
Uncollecting was my mantra...

The vertical thought had
jumped on the moon...

A fugitive chameleon sits on my window sill
daily, ceding the space horizon to thickness...

A nebula rises unfazed after fission:
after a fractured debate, greed crouching on...

A silent war with oneself
devouring all the cells...

For my water god I entered the wetlands.
Fog was increasing and me becoming incoherent...