To blunt the offence
of beautiful pain...

You punish yourself
for not becoming a naught...

Will not show my wounds, life extracts a price.
A heap of pain, squeezed into eyes...

An all pin pricks again
draws blood from empty hands...

In my sanctum,
you walk in? like...

In searing heat, on
the fern path...

Under siege,
tied to a bomb...

The symbols delivered the hunger
and desire cleaved the hearts...

Stoma
opens, ejects the scream...

The God refuses to accept
the infant universe...

Till last moment, life can produce a meaning.
Of sky, stars and space between darkness and...

Sitting on the heap of debris
I decided to move one day...