hygroscopic gods
hate the odour of my dreams
in the symphony of my bone marrow
your hypochondriac whispers
are bleeding dreams
on my red rose petals
i was the wizard of the winds
etching metallurgy in the land of my dreams
till your dark art became a vampire
at the auction of fermented fortunes
i fell a martyr
to the calligraphy of your eyes
your intricate delicacies
lured my rush of adrenaline
your beauty was my apocalypse
and then
the future was a mere excuse
to forget your past
in the labyrinth of lost faces
your feelings will be stained forever
with blood and memories
i wriggled out of your cobweb
with your smoky words:
“will you for once
stop being a lexicographic joker?”
in asphyxiation of emotions
if words are not your blood
this rigmarole was never meant for you!
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