How could it be—thriving under pressure? I never
agreed, a hassle I hold, heaving through exhaustion. To witness a dying office,
bled into wood, strangling over steel; iron platinum, so much hurt, debating
this life—to question a wife. By numb solutions, by rethinking meanings, lost
in essence—a silent scent. Spent hundreds on steaks, a trillion on wishes,
tragic existence, with Love in his belly. Rented a women’s hopes, lied to
mother, fell into father’s traps; with edges leaking, each fringe in me, at a
cliff with spirits—leaping, landing into faith, caged by realities. Had to get
bent, had to do a ritual, had to believe in God. I know nothing else, so real
to me, like a cross, a tree, just dripping life. Love was gorgeous, beaming in
an afterlife, to awaken and disappear. I vanish, filled with secrets, a ghost!
