In cohabiting
a self-denial said...

You go down in the dry pool
foraging for the political errors...

Walking the path with otherness;
not achieving anything...

Lift the rock once
again with cool thumb...

Under the tree of learning
of another life, the primitive father arrives...

You are dying inside me,
my little god...

Nothing to do and
nothing to kill. Clouds will...

Pigments on rocks were darkening.
Violence had permeated like skunk...

A fugitive slice of moon
was preparing to leave...

Let's not go,
let's not reach anywhere...

In a death-trap of a stadium,
as if I am stoned to death...

Prepare the bed
of the liquid art...