Enclosed circle / Sun of love

Here it starts.


My overmodulation, my metamorphosis into knife.

And this flight over these clouds that could turn into illuminated or sinister danse macabre, my flight over the clouds, essence of grey and the black, enemies of the Sun: you.



In case of...



You, archeress throwing sweetly these arrows... with your eyes covered by spectres?

[did you know that an artist is blind to the world?]

because no one sees what he sees: 
for example this lady all radiance in the skies, ruler of all the men's destinies, this horror.

She wants me violent, careless and impetuous; because she's a woman, and she only loves the warrior, the poet and the fucker... and that leaf in the wind, the Sun.



...And I'll scream in a mysterious way, like an animal around you; cold, vulnerable, warm; and gonna mince myself in holographic essence.

I.

Yes, the baddest man of them all



loser/winner/criminal

disgusting/sinner/animal



So here, for you, I settle this my Hell at your feet... and laugh at him?

For you, I rip my entrails and offer them to you, to play with them among your polished nails.



Psst: if you were the goddess Astarte incarnate, I should satiate my ardour in you, before being devoured.

But I, devoid of fanfare, just I: 
I am a corner chastised by broken winds, just another leaf in the wind, like the Sun: you.