What would you like
to wear, when oracle\'s
prophecy comes true.
Temple of pure love
was coming up, but there
was no deity.
You wouldn\'t think,
what I was thinking often.
Last night I slapped myself.
The black moon
rattles, after its message
goes into flames.
Can you talk
in piecemeals, surrounded
by smokescreen of words?
A baby nightingale
sings awkwardly. There
were clouds, no rains.