Vile nights under low ceilings
Whisper barely audible and
Call to make me a second attempt
To get rid of thoughts concern.
Rain washing opaque windows,
Tears washing eyes and insists,
That fear does not me allows,
Not giving to look at the wrists.
Fresh wound of the blind sorrow
Without your lips and tongue.
Your saliva now became bitter,
Heart waited judgment of court.
Your last words make my hands solid,
Turn cold metal into the fire.
Days fast became empty and aimless
Into ugly permanent dying.