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.