The crisis,
a distinctive nothing...

A lifetime with a classic pain,
does not give me peace or freedom...

An evening primrose glides,
on my rough hands...

The prescience
plays a bellwether role...

In black midnight,
the white moon, like a nun...

I will be kissing in proxy?
at the dark side of...

The flame tree
burns again my house...

This was
a catastrophic state...

Self-immolation
near a waterfall...

There was insurgency-
in white night...

Going back foot
he looked inside himself and felt a breeze...

I will need
some new words today...