Lay in line

as the poison burns inside

expect a regret and

suspect the rest

test the time as it tripples inside

swing like a pendulum

with a heavy weight

killing every limb of life

on the way down

disintigrate the un noticed

and fold the rest away

pack the bag for life

and iron out straight

illuminate the void

and substitute the heroine Matilda




what’s the difference between

a stomach turn and the

loneliness of layers;

the nerves that require a

secondary persona

but only one exists

in the sharing of emotion.

when the nerves subside to excite,

who are you?

it forms an image in the mind that

only you can see.

Photograph the story,

film that happening,

record this silence

of a naked body in the queens white

before I obsess with the medicine.

it’s the enoport type,

the motion picture show,

the 14 forms to the imagined expectation

and the one who doesn’t know