silence is the snake hole
where I try to breathe
when you’re obsessed by height

during nights
my chest opens
smelling of black hole

rising angry the forehead
you grab a hammer
and break the moon

from a generous tendency
trying instantly
a fugitive caress

you know those days blacker than the nights
from a heap of consciousness’ remains
anguish extends itself as an infection

it’s no need to draw near
if you want to hear
from a congenital curiosity the mourning
of which sea roaring within my heart?