Amok

Amok

Returning to bad days,

shadows meander surly

as my life runs amok.

Sot, I keep myself from being hunted,

deny I find pleasure in the rollercoaster-

ride, walk barefoot like a naive child.

Held by hands I cannot trust,

forcing me to put on boots covered

with mud and sperm, I become tearful.

At first sitting on a rock, yet fearless of death

I start to run on my hands over a burning pyre.

The glitter in stones ablaze.