you are raped.
everything is pulverized.
it ends the world.

singing for the child who has known
the flash of the sky, the darkness
that does not hide bombs and
exploding things;
it becomes
the insensible sense.

your atoms continue without you.
there is something always.
--

there is in the wall of desire
the scars of excessively thin paint;
influenza and war and
the war which continues.

all nights are done in love;
perhaps he cheats,
but you do not worry.

it is the mountain which
the many poets walked.

it is a terrible color,
the orange of the horizon;
it starts feeling like
the heat of an oven.

and you know that this is
the edge of the world.
--

he is remainders and scatterings.
like a foolish boy, he possesses
the heart of a child.

the bubble around the brain which stops
people from actualization is
broken permanently, finally.

all this humanity surrounded by
whatever it is possible to express.

an enormous hole,
a decapitated being.
my feelings as lost as all this.