B. To N.

Instead of flowers you give me breakages
But I love you like the Night

Dreams give birth to more pain
If they don't depend on our crucifixion
Dreams make the world a King
And us the jesters?.

My most beautiful creature, the deepest nuance of my voice,
Spit in World's face
Reveal your soul all ready unique
To overwhelm all kinds of corruptible souls?.

Come with me to the world of dreams,
Then naked and broken let them

Place us upon the rocks of death

If our souls were fake and if our dreams were made of cloth,
At least there was some sort of cheap love let them say?