***
The wind of solitude blows
your panties white fabric write
the line of the return, you fly
farther, you join the ram with golden
fleece that breathes out through his
nostrils the white dream travelling
on the clouds so you should drive
your thinking away ‒, luxurious
suicide, delicious dissolution.
You’ve discovered the art of driving
away my body, my being, my mind
herself because you begin to destroy
yourself, it’s growing melting
from the feet upwards so you may
choose the sweetest of deaths ‒
you must set your body and blood
on fire, you must empty your mind.
What a dangerous journey mastered
by the horse that studies the self-annihilation.
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