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Unbearable, above the tasteless enchantment of fiction,
I stay on an incautious state while hatred blames my awe.
Locked up the whispered glance from the moon,
I stare contemptness, on your countenance, weakling dead hours into thorns.

A soft silence strings pleasure in grief!
Are those traces from the gone ones?
Is it the breathless dried weep?
Only remembrances from a cynic fool, wandering with the stars.

All around is fragmented into a bright coral of motions.
I feel the unending affliction in nonsense,
Your slight smile is warm and welcoming.
Coward, I respire the sweet dizziness from your nonfaced reflection.

I claim decease like condemning life!
There is nothing like your rough and saltiness kiss.
It makes spiral hazes and isolation smolder.
It treats courteously my own absence, suffocating my ruin.

Obstinated by uncertainty of all I feel,
Trying to define what is right or wrong around me,
I stand up an empty and colorless lament,
Against the torn beauty in my sympathetic slumber.

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