Be my sleep, I tell a dream.
A lantern was chasing the shadows on wall.
My fever?
I say, past one awakening
I will sleep eternally.
The age licks the grief of fallen pride.
I was still walking on sharp stones,
bleeding inside.
Howling, here I come from the caves.
A whole truth becomes unholy
when mixed with crackers
and has a loud noise.
Let the river of life
flow in breast
in night of hunger
without a provider.
