Poezja

Nothing was beholden. 
Colony counts were perfect. 
You were never guaranteed and exit. 
 
I am stalked by lips 
of a black tulip holding 
a moonbeam. 
 
The world moves 
wearing a shell of emptiness 
in a cosmos, inviolable. 
 
Aggrandizement 
beyond the bluffing. 
More beliefs and many withdrawls. 
 
You will not kill me? 
Half-way to soothing words 
of ecstasy.