Being set on fire
my fantasy, my vision...

In twilight,
the noose tightens...

When Rilke stops
whispering, I search...

Cessation had no direct threats.
You had stopped thinking...

In soundless
landscape, I will meet the...

Cause of things?
finding in myself in solitary...

You were casual
in making bed of thorns...

Neither in sleep nor wake
I hear, a wingless fall, out of the clouds...

Your comatose
countenance...

Like a tantric I will
gather you and make you sleep...

A mystical dialogue
in swirls...

Blast of horny
words comes from sideways...