Poetry

Today I am alone―
with myself,
not even with wet eyes.
A corona intends to go into flames.

Stars unaligned―
where was the need of the god
to commit a failure?
The ruins must stay for ever.

Hurtling towards the sun
you wanted to know― why black scorpions
live in the flares of light?

Nothingness bites you. The
despair hurts, because you wanted
the freedom to die without
inventing the Deity.

My guilt should not be identified.