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I heal the ramparts of the deponent tense
I am being loved and certain
A toast to the surgeon's art who cut me
from her skin
The night's software: a drink
I continue my existence as a negative role-model
bathing in the blood of others
sitting in a cone of noise
Birds sing me to sleep at dawn
when you walk in the fabulous cold.
across remnants of life
The spiritualist junkies examine their dreams
Nice days pass my window like a train
You follow him into the baptistery or chancellery
a guide for each muted circle
The city's crumbling brocade and souvenir
immortal art
Aluminium pillars shimmer in the bank's foyer
Sail towards the coast
Await the unpassable sorrow