Dark matters are floating
like bowls made of leaves...

Midnight encounter.
In moon, on sand...

Looking back at self-portrait
was bewitching...

In the empty house
of snow...

I have dipped my fingers
in the blood of the victim...

Between want and desire
few crumbs of words...

A silent presence
huddled in the dark corner...

When clouds were
drawing graffiti on sky...

The wail fills the genesis;
you are not living in me any more...

Interned in my own prison
beneath the skin...

I wanted you as a grain
not as a straw lover...

Death after:
In a decisive moment...