I’ve killed Van Gogh
By making love
in my room.
It’s Normal,
As the Paper Heart on which the artist’s inspiration has been written , finally has turned into a physical nature .
It is the Boomerang of not being faithful to the fantasy .
Nothing will Dance anymore.
...
This is not an Empty Monolog;
as I am still wondering
either shall I choose now to show concern ‘on the assassination of a Politician’ or shall I adhere to the ‘Romanian Uniates Clergy ‘ instead of filling back with a muse the paper heart.

After all ,I simply know.

I do want to regain the Artist's Soul by dreaming in the Poetry Workshop.