Poetry

Knowing too much 
was painful. 
 
Shedding the fear, we were 
disappearing in each other. 
 
The rioting has spread 
between deathless principles. 
 
Unborn was 
the sadistic attack- 
 
sleeping on roses. There 
was hidden sex in the pricks. 
 
I made love with 
the bones- 
unthreading. 
 
I will not borrow 
the colors of moon 
now.