My brain is full of human faces and their faeces
I have shapeless dreams,
but with fierce language
I hate the Sun and its whips
similar to the golden mask of Medusa
my God is a dark hero,
and the demons pursue me.
Like a defeated peacock,
I burry my head into the wet snow,
where the serenity of eternal rest reigns.
I hear a kind of buzz, sounds like people
I hear Beethoven’s music, which spills
out of the whirl of Poe-like terror.
I pierce into the softness of the night
into the dying Sun
measuring my final hours with ancient precision
I demand moonlight and the light
that will go ondeep into the night.
an Arctic star, as enormous as a plate
with two curious eyes,
which will soon crack in the sky.
eternal piece, eternal light..
I demand darkness