I would rather worship the silence of empty walls than your barren heart that you hold so dear; that heart that has never learned how to give.
You thrived in mud like a spring flower, yet by dawn you did not bloom. An infernal amalgam of erudition and sexuality eats your soul like worms eat dead plants. You became one of them: a decomposer par excellence.
I seek purification.
Therefore, forever forgotten – I hope – I return and kneel inside “The Wisdom of the Sands.”*
In the distance patheticism licks your self-inflicted wounds.
*reference to Antoine de Saint-Exupery’s The Wisdom of the Sands