Famelocked,
sometimes he was talking to flowers...

Have-beens went into fury.
Like silkworms, after the shock...

Born out of hate
condemned to fear from each other...

Carrying my words in a small jewel box
I was listening to silence...

It is,
what do you not say...

Burnt-out myths in the old city
are stitching the lips of people...

In the valley of blasts
a row of jacarandas...

In a pool of blood
a face swims...

A new planet was taking birth.
Stem cells were coming out of...

Why did not you
cross the black river...

Watching the ascension
of half-moon from the brown hills...

Deep blue, almost black,
sadness...