swooned by candles

Other than me,

I am sure one of them is telling the truth

The candles echo the seams of my shit

And the smoke, viciously talks about

New life into my language

Darkness everywhere. Just mosquitoes

And the darkness and the spoken typhoon

Looping hither and thither

Tonight. The night of restored noises

Coming from the jalousies, from the dogs

Restoring the joys of life upon my so-called

Two mesmerizing genitals and

Their magnified enemy – the black night,

The extension of cadaverous thoughts

Boxed here and there

Signing out, the candle flicking its last,

The mermaid smoke reaching the whiteness of the ceiling

Engulfing the universe

And its lies. The children of the rain

Of garlic and onions frying,

Of Mondays authenticating the real JOY.

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