How many


words that you spill out to the people
who have no faces for generating
plausible attraction which defines
your beautiful status and control

all around the massive blank
wells where our whole energy
are diluted with the place
where seems like have been discussed
fairly, well-groomed to suit
your intention,

and everything, certain and
obvious, is covered by 
countless unseen reasons, to
be muted.

The alarm of your melancholy broke my fragments,
of days, when you were craving filling
your empty memories
with another consumption of agreements,
the disgraces were diagnosed with melting
shame. I walked into the series of your
fallen days of shout. I remember how you
were brutal and frightened. And you walked into
the screens of black hole, which consumed you and
your sorrow. I cared about it for a moment,
in somewhere nearby you, but had no reason to stay
there forever, and I left there,
a scum.