With the throat salved in dryness,
I cram in my own body.
My self leaves down its dew
in crystallite nails,
To ache the grass that I walk on!
The strawberries are disappearing,
behind them blackberries are growing
Like tears learning to be sweet.

on highway…
traffic is crowded.
Morgana lays spread down there
in front of everybody
like a snake in the desert
shining virginally from rippling.
Morgana stays spread down there
Under wheels that consume their logic…
Like a morphemicall sensation.

At a moment in time
I am Morgana
crammed under ground, crammed on the ground, crammed in void,
to be one
forever
in the asphalt too naturally leveled.