In stark unreality,
I start with a blank
page, unwritten― but
worth reading.

A breakthrough was
needed to rip apart
the lost manhood.

My obsession with you
is growing, who will not tell
why the temple exists
without a deity.

You adore sans words
and then hide between
the signs, like a misunderstanding.
The morgue doesn't have the bodies.

A renegade comes back
deprived of arms, to die
between your lips. The
wine was tasteless.

Let the muse live without a name.