Bune, on the cold shores

Cold shores, feet to calves in the intertwined snakes. They move! They crawl, they wrap themselves around my spine. Tree of the world plunging its roots in the blind eyes of the head which speaks. Is death inevitable?

Desiccated skins left to the abandonment. They have changed those who, yesterday, were still navigating between orgasms and sufferings. Their beliefs and conditionings have fallen as old clothes fall, useless!

Beautiful duchess with revolting eyes, your throne is set with the skulls of those who passed to the other side.

Bune, I crossed the mirror and saw the scales. Your heart against a feather I was told. I laughed and swept the scales away. Who will dare to judge me?

The dead dance in circles on the twin earth.

No spectral laments, a life in death, a life in life... free.