Поглед, сврян в ъгъла.

                                                            Сълза.

                                                            И после пак, и пак.

                                                            Между туптенето и 

                                                            спирането на дъха.

                                                            Безкрайно време

                                                            луната да прегърна.

                                                            Опустелите души не са

                                                            дома, за който съм 

                                                            мечтал.

                                                            Викове и страсти, 

                                                            ярост.

                                                            Оглупели, претърсваме

                                                            измислени чувства.

                                                            Очите  не могат да

                                                            достигнат радост.