My tears hurt in
my eyes
Loneliness is a
concentration camp
Smells house-slops
In the waiting
tin-bowl
The iron plates
Of the heavy
boots
Of my heart
Crush my
ventricles
The temptation
mouse
Gnashes its
teeth
The cold iron of
the bed
Covered with
sleepless straw
Has got a single
season
Then we take the
pen
And write books
Delousing
ourselves
Of the
expectation parasites.
