The world is a scorching lie, it gallops the light
swallowing the other half of a stale melon
climbing the stairs in a descending order
rubbing alcohol to one’s eye
the flaccid numb lugubrious eye
throwing dust in the basket of an old lady
And then cherishing the gaze of a falling star
crossing hair strands to form an impeccable knot,
I see, hardened rock in my navel, smothered like a beggar’s face.
The cryptic resonance, the elliptical sunrise
An egg-shaped lie.
Then, I see the light, white light adorning the dark background
forming patterns, jigsaw puzzles
Imbrication of susurrous paths, my eyelids wide open only
to scratch the remains of dirt
to pick up the lost child
and dancing towards the little loop of hope.