The beauty of being
nothing, like the nystagmus.
Do you see me through,
when I break inside?
Won\'t you release your
white doves to smell
the melting moon
of summer\'s blues?
Nameless a poem swims
in your pale eyes. I
watch the cobra rear up
like a purple monkshood!
One day I will pay
back your debt, for the
myth of phoenix. I will
live for centuries in the
desert to rise from ashes.
Nobody becomes a conqueror!