Under the sullied moon
the uncivil ways of the heart
stormed in
like the French revolutionaries
marching the Bastille.
the insomniac shadowy passions
concealed beneath the pillows
swooned the being
and reddened the rage.
the tipsy tongue
the Machiavellian mind
and the arrowed thoughts
woke up the wounded waves.
Freudian dreams
came in a starry caravan
very muscular but unnerved
yet
the sodden ones
could not do much.
the tousled and the wintered
hallucinations
drenched me into
sweet abysses
hitting the divine jingle bells.
Thy Vox 
Published by