Amok-Insanity in a murderous frenzy*

My pith transcends to an encounter with your skin, amok.
Transcends to each single word been said, to any plaint been moan by a ******.
My skin it’s only a vignette of the universe, a tattooed moon in God’s scapula.
Endures to the bites of the madness, transcends to the existence itself.
My pith has wings, and it’s like the smoke of the cigarrete I’m smoking with you.
Free.