Poezja

I cannot understand you.
You walk straight
into enemy's den.

The skin peels off. A naked
boom. Silver domes
turn black. Ethanol drips
from eyes.

Praise the God. Tears
become poetry. Moon dances.
No door opens in bleeding night.

I ask for the lips. It
is for death of the priest,
who would not accept the streak of sin.

Until you become hot.
Flashes of fireflies have
become longer. Tail to
tail the message will betray the address.

Buddha takes his own time. There was
no light between the dark hills.