VIPERS Comments

On some deserted shore,
where sand and wind converse
about eternity,

vipers slither out
from under rocks,
cold and odious
they lay on my heart.

I said to the vipers,
hungry for warmth:
Drink blood.
I've no use for blood.
I've no use for the rivers of passion.
They have nowhere to flow,
they are choking in the dams of reason.

Devour my heart also.
I've no use for it.
No use,
as it dissolves in ice,
like weeping stars dissolve
in the river.

Devour my heart.
Then furl into an icy ball
in the cavern of my chest,
so I won't need to watch
the stars weeping
in waterpools,
watch them longing for radiant footsteps
left behind
on the azure velvet of the sky.

Devour my heart,
swill hot blood,
cold, odious vipers.

All is permitted
on the desolate shore,
where sand and wind converse
about eternity,
one only needs to rip his heart out
and hurl it into the famished snakes' mouths.
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