Bird of insanity in this house of nerves
dives in transport into the darkness
that she has somehow come to love,
but doesn't find her hand anymore, yields,
to the window, where unmovable black
the horizons lie
that were once dear to her—
but flies herslef blind into the glass
and lies down in the middle of the cell,
where I begin to pray:
give now a gentle poison to this animal /
and this house,
o death, your last purifying winds.
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