What do I do with the words? <br />They hurt, they flourish without thoughts, <br />destroying the civilities. <br />The sky cannot hold the conflict. <br />The strange friction <br />of the image blurs the colors. <br />Love has become a cauldron. <br /> <br />A tough question <br />tries to penetrate in my skin. <br />I come out of my body, <br />peeling off the conflicts <br />from the timeless silence. <br />The voices of doom hang on the trees. <br />Somewhere the tears <br />turn into watermark. <br /> <br />Not afraid of afterlife <br />I am ready <br />from death to death. <br />Another autumn <br />will take away all my greens, <br />water
