I won’t burn out from loneliness,
he knows that.
So, he comes at night…
Late so late…when you can even see through the spineless sky.
He comes after everything.
Sometimes through windows, sometimes through doors.
I keep all these things open now, for him.
Too many days have passed, he tells me to go with him for a reincarnation,
one day perhaps he will take me by my arms…he will show me brand new flutes… resurfaced alcohols…every green utopia.
I think it’s time I let myself go…too many stones I have murdered…too many.
I had some closeness with warm breathings…they have nurtured me…I have been fed from their breasts.
But enough now.
Jet planes are coming to get me,
make me high one last time…show me a quiescent cinema for one last time.
I am all empty and beating now…
Late at night my senses come out of me and stroll down the streets for a cold fire,
it has to be a unshakable sign.