The sharp teeth anguish
similar to the dog in my last dream
who had grabbed my hand
is penetrating my body under my ribs,
the autumn turns her coat
the depth of the sea roars
from its mute lungs.

The sea weeds are looking horrified
from that place the light
is very difficult to reach,
cannot feel any caress,
cannot feel even the intense cold
and the breakings in my own body,
immobile in the ground.

The salt passes through their membranes
and gliding on the cheek,
never drying.
I tear them, I press them, I kill them.
That’s what I have to do. Only that.