Silence shakes its fruits on my shoulders,
Rives off my gown.
I watch the nude of my rotten self.
And I think tomorrow
death
will change me
in a night butterfly:
To carefully fly
round and round a bulb called:
life.

Silence shakes its fruits on my shoulders,
Leaves me to the moon,
not on the sky tonight.
Heat is an unfavorable tool
That doesn’t cut round and round a heart
Unleashed of arteries on sand…
All my powerless hangs of my jugular
Like a parasite that rouses the cataract of heart.
And when I breathe,
Each lump
It is read: dots, dots, dots…
I wish I could taste
The fall into the abyss
Where just a little
I could be touched by
a cold breeze.

Silence shakes its fruits on my shoulders,
And I am the only one speaking with myself:
I wish I could name myself
But the moon doesn`t let me:
She says I`m raw and deep,
Her light doesn`t reach me
And night warms even more
With the crumbs of yesterday and todays` stars!

My silences hang me by the world,
They clot me round the rainy clouds,
So that I rain over this supreme heat
Where not even hope plays anymore
The rain or the wind…