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

Round dahlias.
Your eyes have started speaking...

After the organic death
of soaked breast...

Unslept-
hangman, flees from the noose...

Meditation was futile.
He turned his back...

Twilight song of a cuckoo
taps the window softly...

The matrix drinks the words,
in the anonymity of opaque meanings...

Remember it not.
Oblivion...

So my absentism will prevail
over presence...

In slap at your icarian path
the call was not taken...

He said creating a will
to become whole Being...

This road trip to moon will not end
through the shards of shattered...