decapitation

running to the beach in the still of the night
(half-stirred thoughts and


a lonesomeness

to remain)


frail at the strength of tears

to be swept away
by the smallest wind



and then

moments, when -


the realisation of the reality of things
gradually renders you

meaningless







to feel the burden of a birdsong
you no longer enjoy


and cry


cry
for the loss of


love


(scream is
non-vibrato)


ce n'est pas jolie -

c'est beau.