each night I’m running
through a nightmare transgressing
into pink and purple
since springtime until fall

from my lost body
drifting in the labyrinth
between suns
my viscera are good enough
only for the sacrificial knife
predicting a future
like a nebulous placenta
from leaves skeletons

my chest is full of stars
empty of pain and blood
a moon plaster squeezes
my hardened heart
when I will fall in the dust
a crater will be left above
and not a single thistle below

my God please dress me up
in silvery voices of angels
I’ll be a capsized bell
with its brim towards the sky