The night came as I speak of stars. 

First with crimson West and then all of a sudden, all over the rotting body. 

People’s fiasco, people’s clustrophobia, vulnerable turns on breasts, my howling isolation…came and put the time through tunnels. 

Just because it’s more poetic to remain silent…but it’s gut trenching to continue being silent. 

Nights and lights floating outside the chimerical eyes… 

More raindrops around these anarchist vaginas, 

how I wish to see these skies full of star carpet fighting like them, dreaming like them, making love to wolves like them and crying with a infectious smile like them. 

Words would swirl away with waves, 

a day, a sun, mother’s selflessness, a new wolf to murder…

by the way I am sorry for reffering the male part of human as wolves.

You see wolves have balls to be dignified.