real owner

In misty smoke  of burning heart

Meetings of unknown peoples

Treasury of holy heart seems looted

Agonizing pain rested meek as  stray bird

In dark arena

This epidemic of hateble small pox making faceless by

I don’t love at all attitude

Destination fagged to stop dreams in eyes

Here the conversation of futile churlish chant

Echoing nothing in ears as memorable,

More than weeping heart inside.

All mascara one fake layer of pleasant face

Like competition  of choosing beauty queen

Whose end is suicidical farce only

Laugh on death if you have strength don’t fear

This down belly hunger

Come on hug me really to kill my desires

With your birthday cake knife

And wrote on it your name if you dare to lend me life.