Poetry
There is no rituals to poetry
Or describing you
Or any organizer chaos
I follow only my sin
And breathe from the tomb of feeling
I cut the fertile vacuum
Into lost insides
In one of them
There is your solitude .
I make your spectrum every night
I gave it life from my unknown absolute
And through it in my subconscious.
In my alienation
I erased every road to the world
Every shadow of any community prison
Every light from dead sky
Except the torn road to you .
You are to wonder
To the lonley god
To the question
To the last line in every poem I write
To the rhythm of the last
To where
To when .