Poezja

Becoming something from anything
was a great bliss of paradigm.
I take a dip in anonymity.
 
You will never know,
where you will start a rough patch
on the road?
 
A prehistoric site could not outlive
the humiliation of proximity to hate.
Violence chewed the dust.
 
My knees give way to anguish of morality;
horror of captivity of dawn.
The eyes are going to collapse in endless night.
 
Tapping of kernel in hand, shell of truth bothers you,
like a mountain dew under the stone.
I will destroy the anxiety of grass.
 
Death of desire may take place.
Fragrance still devastates the moon.