under the bamboo of the forest
meeting you while the leaves scraped quietly

spinning the cobwebs
praising the words of the devil
creaming me

always wondering in the light of the candle
if I were born yesterday

spite creeps it away
it's always dark

murmurs of wonder
persistent heaviness of the lids
we broke the hourglass

then there are my memories of the rain

––always eternal––
––everlasting––
––grieve––