The drops of rain sparkle ruby and turn to blood falling down my chest, on my face, onto dirt. The same soul that once hated the eerie storm now drops down in the puddle of blood in ecstasy blending with the earth. Fall down pure life, as angels long forgotten, for the “sins” of bliss. Take another deep breath and let the flow go on fuelled by disgust. Infernal fires, burn all skins! Curse all that rots, curse the earth, and curse the ashes! Infernal laughter! Burn in irony all the hypocrisy that mocks like age, on the face of a once angelic old women, all the beauty of sentiments! Burn with irony like the screams of the poet the structure of live, and request reason for the golden rules.

A world ageless and beyond time, beyond falsehood, beyond irony of flesh. A world of pure feelings, of orgasmic love, of solemn revenge, of pure pleasure and teaseful pain, blended into the rainbow. Forge out of the last pure drop of blood a world without the louses on the skin of the prince, without the sickening stink of the princess. Crumble to dust all the prejudice, dip your fingers on the infested blood of the impotent pope and write with it on his forehead “ The king of slaves”. Rape and incinerate the blind whore-lady justice that condemn the ones who want to live in favor of those who waste diamonds on carving tombs.

Alone, cold-hearted I walk away into the storm from my dove’s tomb.