13 July 2016
It is painful a laugh
At the drowning scene
It is torture to love
At the dawn of the Young age.
And to bleed is a lonely labour
For tears are only for thee
And to pretend is an empty candour
When the scuffle is beneath.
It is a dreadful vision
Blind bullets, bitter concord
It is that crystalline prison
Comfy home, draining patrol.
Here I am lost in a garden of my own
For the dark dimensions are endless
And impossible we roam alone in our blood
No touch, no consolation, no caresses.