The grimmest crime
as well as its links
– remnants,
bones and flesh
– hide away in a plastic pack
– so sweet like blood or gloss of gelatine paper will remain our words,
memories and feverish insanity,
besides in this limpid pack our breakfast,
our hopes,
our lunch will remain warm
and fairly wet from now on.
Bon appetit, my friend!
My traitor.
My Judas
Crying from a general misunderstanding!
Mariia!
My Mary and I!
My virgin – like all the mothers – Mom!
My errant – like all of us – holy nun!
You're my voodoo priest,
my autopsist but not for me — for others.
My noble sun!
My endlessly kind,
Tender,
Oversensitive and lonesome,
My phlegmatic,
Romantic,
Hysteric,
Sexually depressive and marble
My voiceless supper.
My only friend.
My love.
