Poezja

Full moon was negating the intensity of night. 
I wanted the sacred smell of dark heaven 
which was dispensing the forgiveness. 
Did not reach the dazzling height of a star; 
even conflicts gave me immense metaphors. 
Nemesis was measuring the hauled-up mistakes 
For them I was tormented by unknown fears 
and the ravings were useless. 
Deliberately I cleaned my room twice 
to welcome the instincts. 
Even the particulars have become painful. 
What do you think, can we follow the poem 
without a title? 
The neighbourhood cracks silently 
I am not going to flaunt my lesions.