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Losing grip
Another drip
A new cold

Air passing through a new hole on the white rocks of the pink mould
Air passing through a new hole on the white rocks of the pink mould

No strength left
To pull the cord
Of the morning bell

A million diamonds sing inside an empty shell

Always crashing, screaming
Relentlessly bashing
Incessant, repulsive, backtracking hypotheses

Seldom finished
The beasts of the nighttime
Canfrenkin borentis a sotzkee, potzkee borree

Fingertips folding, deep in their tunnels black creatures make nests no needle can rupture

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