July the 12th of 2014 falls on a Saturday
A Saturday picks it up
Washes it clean
And places it in a tiny room
And sticks a rose in its ass
Meanwhile, the moon sets the forests ablaze in silver of death
Time fights a duel with space
Little naked people scamper up and down along sleek highways
inside the head.
Tigers had danced with flowers once
Their shadows still gleam on dark corridors
As the sun gets stuck in throat and burns the guts of heart
My grave shall ever be in a tiny room
Write to me
I, too, was a lover once.