That night I died as an invisible worm destroyed a rose
It was the night of my death.
A strange quietness filled every hole
and every gap of the darkness
the walls and windows were yawning
and stretching in boredom
and the roof reflected an anxiety of
an ominous, menacing end.
An end, so grotesque and murderous in itself
I heard a sudden howl of a dog, ugly,
splitting the bizarre silence of the night