For a patch of happiness you rushed into the arms of clouds.
Only to fall back with tears.
The glazing authority of moon hangs on the poverty of spiked wisdom.
Betrayal is the norm of celestial thinking;
how can you accept a drop of death?
What is your motive in watching the pain?
A path, a tunnel, a precipice.
The collage of purity has the innocence of sorrow.
And truth, sails like a phoenix.
There is complete silence.
The flameless fire collapses lapping up the anger.
Pouring out all the heartbeats,
emptying the mind, darkness lowers the wheels
between muscles and bones.
Your body is eaten half by dusty thoughts.
Claustrophobia chokes the little stanzas you are afraid,
some one cares for you.