from right across the moment
you watch, see, gaze, stare
with eyes all over your body
it is difficult, isn't it?

now walk across it
sweat dripping like a pathway to assassination
assassination of figurative head of imagination
imagination is *****

smelling words
words of delusion
I think it is psychological said the doctor
so that very evening when cow is red
you open up your mind
and talk to your friend

waiting for him to blink
or at least flutter like a lamp
and then when you are walking to the mess
with hunger that made your stomach sing
with hold on it, you look up
you see a face, right there, next to a street lamp

she sat there until you were out of your sight
she is not there any more
from this side of a moment
you still watch, gaze, stare, at
in the vacuum, vacuum like your loneliness
with eyes, distracting you to all your different dreams

Moon is getting red
as if it's being strangled
my legs are proving the struggle
the night belongs to a scream
scream of a sparrow
in a gut deep stab
by some homeless from the country far far away
who stomps his feet every time you ask his name
she was rather painted differently
or interpreted differently
but the melancholy woman
I saw in the street selling goody bags
with a huge smile on her face
as I turn around the block
it was alley of the gunshot
people talk here in gunshot
gunshot carols
gunshot lullabies
gunshot romance
gunshot cry
gunshot memories
the subtle is the step you take
the subtle is every trigger you pull
bite you lips and
you are accused of being a communist
sad howl wakes up the city
the feeling of being mugged is haunting every lamp
every star
every eye
everything that glows
and
in a quiet distant direction
voyage continues
on a day
slipping into a moonless night

it is so clear
clear as eyes of a child
the murmur
splutter
utter
hum
all about how windy was the night
well night has to be windy
moon has to be forgotten
to conceive
agony of watching stars' drama
live through the eternal crack
she crushed and smelled daffodils
all who saw that were stupefied
time was liquefied
it was drinking game
gods were playing
wipe out the ends
and **** it up
let it flow in the main line
let it hang upside down
a clear uncertainty

I just want to speak
speak where someone
at least a stray dog can listen
better, understand

It was so unfruitful that I kept writing

the essence of writing is suffering
suffering is like star
star is like your friend
friend who never loved you back

love is pathetic
passion is died
dead is god
god is a myth
myth is a new logic
logic is intellectuality

there is so little difference

I have to die to draw his attention
he's busy carving melons for Halloween

It is ghostly wandering
ghosts are too many
many things have to be transparent
I expected his eyes to be
never saw them
never realized he was not into them
though he owned them