I was trying to communicate
the poverty of words...

The reverse gravity pulls me
into timelessness...

That grave alchemy
of cold fusion...

Living on fringe
he was stealing genes...

Ready to dismember the red geraniums
rains had no mercy...

Nomadic moon was roaming
in the maddened fear of night...

Lines on forehead are deepening.
No signs of abatement...

Walked into the sun,
He. With weak flesh...

On the hay stack lies my body
brought from the shooting range...

Give me a piece of your body
before you go...

There were subtle declines,
still I opted for incompleteness...

A quest for celestial insanity
brings some comfort...