After the plumes,
legs are blown off...

Eyes will not flirt again.
There were bleeding stones...

I must not go beyond sunset
to discover the consciousness of night...

Have not asked much,
still attached to you with subtelities...

Aggressive posture of silence
sweeps the mind...

The metastatic figure.
He was seeking truth without thought...

A complex ego:
lips on a flame...

An offence committed by you
asks for the absolutes...

A useless space between the sentences,
ghastly story does not end in black and white...

Dementia begins. The ending starts.
Death had many names...

Your underpants?
Can you put them behind...

To find the
essence of nothingness...