Poetry

Stakeholders, 
are coming. 
There was conflict between 
logos and mythos. 
 
One black thorn 
was in the flesh. 
You come out of the body 
to find the window. 
 
One long eel─ 
surreptitiously enters, 
in the guts─ 
to pluck your eyes out. 
 
But you were 
already dead─
after the search of slant light 
coming from the liberation. 
 
Crossing the 
time zone, 
you enter the black hole 
traveling at zero hour.