Lustful
reconstruction the image
of whatever’s left
in the bowl of silence
frustrated salesmen
walking around sticks of despair
conquer my sight
rebellion
faith
lust and concrete
I feel the urge
to recreate the woman on my left
to see the bold thumb
caressing the high breast
to touch the purple hair
falling on cold collarbones
come
rebirth of smoke in icy glances
collision of white teeth
in lubricated smiles
can anyone resolve
the fulfillment of joy
in the mid-autumn afternoon
among long legs
and disrespectul care.
September 2000
there's someone in my head - but it's not me 
Zi-ne cu cuvintele tale: