dream is a vagabond

day burned into black smoke,
over the ground-rot, where cicada
shrieked amid frothy dirt,
under ruined windows,
reeking of aged spirits.
unchaste curves
in the crook of the slippery plot,
swayed with licentious shades,
in the alley filled with arid desires.
trapped mirages made vicious love
in the cellar of my lurid dreams.
indolent murkiness passed on
the aftershocks of the naked rigidness,
penetrating unyielding fantasies;
I heard the sermons,
from beyond the closed doors,
bewailing sperms squandering
away the cool night’s serene silence.

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