Round dahlias.
Your eyes have started speaking...

Icons of evolution and
loud men made a circle...

A dented version of an old grudge,
blackened lips with an elite song...

Must we go beyond
the black holes of burned books...

A peacock becomes non-violent
keeping the warheads...

Writing on sleeves
to remember your departure...

It was coming up, the politics
like dirty sex...

In moonscape, a flower
remedy, enters the white...

Beyond the sex
he was sleepwalking in shame...

For a long time
I will look at you...

Was it necessary to see,
what you wanted me to see...

Tonight I lift your eyes from the face
and paste it on my window...