Fallen startdust .
Seen by the night’s cold noon
Left on the weave beneath the moon
Now your time has come
There is no here
For bones to hide
Her paintbrush a razor
Her canvas her wrist
My dreams are all of blood
My mind filled with darkness
I am not sure;the thought of it frightens me
A place of suffering and death
In search for something coated in blood
I do not understand
Just what ii have done.
(2014)
