You are not me.
It was not gentle...

Wanted to pay
debts of gratitude...

This kitsch
makes you hollow...

Stammering quarrel
with classical fluidity...

He had tied the brown thread on the pole
relieving the spirits from trees for the start...

He did not want to climb the spiral helix,
a son will be born without him...

In the stand-off
between stolen history...

Seizing a chance in
a trice, in one dark September...

He did not want anything
after the sex and death of a protagonist...

Your body in mud pack
in line of fire...

A patch on my shirt
was growing...

Let it remain
ovarian pure. After strangulating...