Your face becomes
an eye, a saga of...
He was no longer angry
writing his own epitaph...
I have never been the same,
after watching, the abandoned...
Death after:
In a decisive moment...
Rhetoric had a theme
like crab-grass to destroy the lawn...
Waiting for a chaste bread, whole
life under the moon...
To understand your
niche, I listen to echoes...
Standing on a sandisland
I was looking at the landscape...
Talking of obscenity
you were undressing...
You were collecting the
clocks, to stall...
A pinch of moon
in the glass of my wine...
Where do I begin,
extracting the earth...