Macbeth

Abusively artistically we attended our secretive sleeps.

Bored with automated glory. So let us

Carve our blood and water into sins.

Defeated desires through which we limp

Enlighted our hands to be reduced to clean

Flinch. Simply we kill &

Grasp on this life so wobbly. Tight. Being

Haunted is what is means to be alive.

Insanely I cross this chaotic heaven that’s privately heavy.

Jokes and crimes are equal. I question and answer on my own.

Keenly I cry, shout, overcomplicate publicly –

Losing track of my anonymous knife;

Mine. Bewitched honors and discussed fears:

None of us could escape this

Ocean. Endlessly we float and we drown endlessly. Everyone.

Precisely I’m absent for my hope and late for the despair.

Question well-preserved just for you:

R you sane enough to crown your darkest fear? My eyes sleepless, hands bloodless.

Starkly bald mind & skin. Exposed. All. Is this forbidden life

That I’m inhaling. Ghosts. Witches and forests. Thorns predict my shadow

Unscheduled trail beginning to be demolished

Versus days I yet do not wake. I beckon for fights and

Wars to arm myself against midnight screams with silently bright tentacles.

X: cross Out – this suffocation of life. Cancel the cry on your face.

Yelp for air. Yelp. You’re as innocently noble as my knife.

Zero proceed the formation of million. So do amoral rebirth and insatiable death.