Volens Nolens
Willing or not


I drink
To think
Myself into
The oblivion
I think
To drink
The alluvion

Sullied on the soil
Of our lost foil
For caresses we coil
Like moths around the light
In the drapes of the night
We have bled,  we make love
In our blue and grey cove

Coloring
The blankness
Blanking the colors
Along the dolors
Of this foolishness
Of this nothingness
Agonizing

Ashore the rivages
Of our images
Numbed by the fresh thick flows
Of their fleshly life’s vows
Reflecting
The four flames
Of our blames

July, 19, 2014