Water Won’t Quench This Thirst

Of love that is in my water
you shall never put out this fire…
This fire as a stone burning where my heart is,
Home, a good intention with familiar walls,
you shall always have curtain shot of cunt.
Curse words of goodbyeー
Nostalgia to the dead.
Nothing shall fill this hole
buried after your navel
from the leg up,
where your heart was placed.
No thatched roof in ice alones’
No fur finishing in windy sails.
Is of love and of hurt
a mirror held by a frame,
you and a shadow
you and a ghost
you holding a knife
you, Brutus and blood.

Ruddapoet Rudolph

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