I sweep through the mists of uncertainty
Pursuing the picture of my soul.
This need I suffer is my certainty
That I have to be whole.

I attempt to picture my subconscious
I start from scratch until memories vanish
It's like I've chains at the threshold of my conscious
I've to end up in the end to banish.

Is it colorful or black?
Perhaps abstract.
Perfection wrapped in chaos
Leading to an abstraction loss.

The soul's anatomy of an heteronym
Who, so breathlessly, seeks his creator says:
"Not be ignorant is an atrocity, but
Be ignorant in paper is ferocity".

At least he had wisdom to be aware
That some ****** that come numb and dumb,
Rare, is not to despair.

The weight of thought at my soul,
It could throw me at the longest distance
It could drag me to the deepest hole,
But is not enough to cease my existence.

No matter what, I am a scribe for soul.
Bring all the feelings at once, for I've a curse
And until I've breath I'll describe
Death is only the last verse.