Are you sure after the sunset
the hunger will find the mouths...

It does not work;
the manipulation of the fast...

Take my body for sail,
my wings to fly...

A chilled moon was standing
between the lovers...

There was no colour in the nude
and skin deep fire was raging...

These were the children of
wrath, the fire god. What I am...

Sudden onset of an insertion
going for a kill in bluish green valley...

I will not understand
the gift of hurting...

In your limpid eyes
a pacifism slumps...

A leopardess dies on a tree.
No molestation was reported...

Meditation was futile.
He turned his back...

He was no longer angry
writing his own epitaph...