[untitled]

a brownian whim
she's possessed
she puzzles
my life
a picture being
put together
without having
fallen apart
for the first time
or the last
i fail
to employ
or because of
an age-old
metaphor
"with love and hate i zigzag
and through the path i'm blinded
fate against fate i pile
be it a chaos
or a blunt ache"

a ladder
she is
she climbs
climbed with
worldly desires
and on top of it
an epicurean death
like the bottom
nurtured with sunlight
of a glass jar
to a fly
always an abyss

and here you are
here you are