The Quartered Dependence by Nomad
Narrow dream in the lost storm of words
Dumb herds of sonorous grumbles
Killed colonies of utopian sheets
A vault of narrow corners
A pulp multiplied with unyieldness
A sight of dark vacuum
Wild, infernal desires
And you spun by a prose of mockery
I rose as cold as abyss
I emerged with invidious smile
Of my creative body
Empty your eyes at dawn
Shy splutter of illuminated tears
Your body trembling and small
Again you fall down like a broken glass
Covered procession of besmeared cares
Threatening whispers of masked brothers
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