There is not a word to write
of anything but sun...

Weak Scottish sun streamed
and pattered...

This is a paltry pain-
one where you may stagger on and on...

I’ll easily call a puppy a wolf.
Pain to me is that slight rash...

O-
it aches...

I walk another dollhouse street,
and at the centre of that black desert road...

You are two.
Yes...

*VERSION 1- Secular
There is a choice...

My insides do not sew the fabric of my flesh.
So de-robe me...

I a good borrower space.
just a body...

If my breath extends for far too long
I ask you to strangle my mortal song...

wordless
worthless...