Exfoliated, I come to you,
to scratch the blighted...

Drought had entered
into grass roots...

Be with me
in this zone of pain...

Was it a summer storm of sexuality?
Only the chaste statue stood in threads...

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

Things go beyond your
vision. I transcend gods...

Sundown
body becomes blue...

In the humid night
there was a circularity...

Lips of clay tend to bleed
my kisses...

Don't give words to
thoughts. Terror begins...

A thought starts a fire
loosening the lips...

The dots, million times,
like fire ants...