My totem of misfortune.
each step hiding in pride,
each step brilliant.

A gleaming axe hacks through all the weeping rocks.
Words without trigrams...
omens without words.

The vault of heaven is spreading..
spreading plaster coloured souls
full of deluded flesh and blood...

Flesh and blood,
chewed over and again,
to be thrown like red coloured dice
to scavengers.

I am created through humiliation,
the deepest abyss of unadultered remorse.

My stringless lute makes the heavenly pipes resound,
I still speak epitaphs of I who have died.

I wish to conquer my queenly glory,
sleepwalking from lotus to lotus.

I'm awaking plague stricken prehistoric monsters,
this pedigree of ghosts,
unwatered trees have withered,
to the limits of heaven.

Now, because of a wrong thought
you are all left homeless.
The bustle of human life is like a riverbank in the mirror,
swelling up in all directions.

Mankind writes burning words on mica,
each eye dies..
and for the tenth time I am buried alive...

By the wind.

I see god as white bones,
what brings him glory?
The immoral existences he created
who run
and crawl
on the endless yellow earth?

We are nothing but generations of miscarriages,
using fires as mirrors,
hoping for the once majestic shoreline to return,
each heart reeking of smoke,
only the lucky ones find a ray of morning light on the nib of a pen.

I forget myself,
but never you.
My memories are but ghosts living in my head.
Forever telling of one time or another,
yet always talking of the present.
Forever enduring one kind of death or the other,
yet never departing from my own death.

Betrayed,
everywhere is the centre of disaster.
As i sit alone using bricks to build my
house without dreams.

In my hand I hold my hope..
Stars were born not simply to resist the night.

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