Towards a Naked Soul


I collected self-pity

Distilled from common heart-breaks

The Narcissus reminder

 

That we transmit pain

With cowardly eyes

Believe me it’s not

 

Anything but my stupidity

The poetical potential to learn how to hate

From foundations of so much love

 

I collected melancholy

Like a common child of love

My thirst for ambiguity

 

A gourmet prerogative

Feeling is a the great gamble

For sensitive types like me