The Quartered Dependence

Narrow dream in the lost storm of words

Dumb herds of sonorous grumbles

Killed colonies of utopian sheets

A vault of narrow corners

A pulp multiplied with unyieldness

A sight of dark vacuum

Wild, infernal desires

And you spun by a prose of mockery

I rose as cold as abyss

I emerged with invidious smile

Of my creative body

Empty your eyes at dawn

Shy splutter of illuminated tears

Your body trembling and small

Again you fall down like a broken glass

Covered procession of besmeared cares

Threatening whispers of masked brothers

Silent lusts beaten by a torn heart

And fingernails driven into a coffin lid

Fabulous angel somewhere on a dream screen

Old fruits of bitter words

Minds stuck to the gospel of threats

I hiss like a pulpy grain

I sprout in a concrete grip

Yesterday I was a stream,

today I'm a dam

Overturned I'm vomiting in a whirl

Night rocks the gray curtains

Your little flame goes out

What do you crush an infant for?

Driving a nail Into the eyes

Why do you lie building a sand race?