How wearing the patience of vultures is
in the desert of people's eyes...

The hyenas' heinous hunts of fawns,
the gory glory sacrifice of lambs...

In any second our wings portion death and life.
We are equals as we are together...

I always carried my death, living.
My memories all were...

pictures,
the cliché of memories...

As much as personal, love
is also impersonal...

Distance and love are opposite,
space and hearts...

To be or not to be,
the throat of an hourglass...

What if we won’t wake
for we are fugitives of...

To camouflage their
smeared hands they deliquesce in...

Wheel marks
on the mirage...

Sounds vibrate to silence,
waves to stillness...