I exist for myself between buckles,
they brail up my wrists
with molars, with jags, with prosthesis,
so I wouldn`t go crazy more
than now
when I can`t move towards you.
moon, oh, moon. God damn you!
and all this mushy melodrama
that make me howl

I aroused from the dead
through the waves of this world to crawl
towards you
like a blizzard of cathartic ice
with every tooth crucified
on a filling
inside my wrists
which I can`t pay but through
pain.
and only through your voice,
the highest peak,
the peak from which I can throw myself
to the feet
where all of my ghosts, all of them would be
waiting to engulf me,
to become in the end!