Sighting the plankton,
it was the moondown...

A toxic tongue laps the ocean
and fish goes to sleep at bottom...

First listen to your heart.
No poetry will walk tonight...

White lotus at red feet:
we will start self-infliction...

Visibility was poor when he pursued
the face, face of himself...

The spirit of hollow ideal
was not the thing...

The arch
in the targeted killing...

A tribal kill;
after a blood sucking...

Experimenting with thoughts and nostalgia,
trying to extinguish the guilty fire...

Prepare the bed
of the liquid art...

In search of peace
the free hand was inflicting casualities...

It was happening.
It was a perverse state...