When he turns his back
He looks at you
Don't trust him
When his eyes are closed:
He still looks at you
I fled, I fled
Devouring the space
But the shapeless bulk
Was chasing me -enraged-
Breathing my footsteps
Unsated with killing me
Slowly
Nailing my incandescent thoughts
Along the border
Of insanity
In a place where
A procession of fleshly numbers
Slides incessantly
Into the ironic waters
Of the cosmos
Seeking to remember
The sense
Of the impossible word:
Escape
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