You wear a tailor-made shadow jacket and you frighten the days of the living with your silent footsteps! Your twilight wounds as insidious stigmas;
they burn first and then they get drunk in you until the brain!
In addition to all the prickly criticism, a blade or eyeball knife that
can inflict incurable wounds and your selfish hurt may have lasted a lifetime!
The shivering of street lamps in the alley can push alone,
cellular light into your room!
As a silent language of anger,
you are wasting your wasted time
on your gainable happiness!

You collide with yourself every day and you get out of everyone!
Suffering crocodile-teared chubby faces are your only sincere confession;
teasing the words teasingly on the strings
of your soul like fake cards!
Staring at your tap, you beat the monotony
of your clicking clocks in your throbbing veins!

The pen-paper-pencil becomes an illusion in your hand!
Your cherished tongue Atlantis can no longer swing between your lips;
your vile peace also seems to be distorted,
and Morality has become a gallows flower!
You dominate, tact, and play chess when others just look at you
— and because you lose yourself at every moment
so that the other half-whole Man can find your fragile balance.

So much of Swinging Time has run out in vain:
when will you be able to truly rejoice in livable, immortal moments?!
The holy words of love that babble you?