The fog is like a guest bird, It fluttering its wings in front of my closed window. I am forever a pet bonsai tree, hesitantly embracing the quilt made of snow.
The full moon laughed like a ghost Scared, I collect all the rusty stars. Light the orphan stars with kerosene and chase the green darkness of isolation.
In this Capitalist evening Customers don't care about the new moon anymore On contrary The full moon's market is so trendy. So we practice wailing, we who are roofless proletarians.
You understand ideology,recession,arms race. Why not the void of my soul after seeing your face ? You even understand superheroes ,Trump 's tweet But you don't understand my missing heartbeat.