Status Updates From The Selected Poems

Honestly, kind of a slog thus far.

My eyelashes are pins. In my chest one tear is boiling.
I'm not frightened to know that the storm will go on and on.
Some ghoul tries to hurry me, make me forget,
but even when I can't breath I want to live till I die.

O the pain of peeling back the raw eyelids
to look for a lost world...

Leaves scarcely breathing
in the black breeze;
the flickering swallow
draws circles in the dusk.
In my loving
dying heart
a twilight is coming,
a last ray, gently approaching.

And over the evening forest
the bronze moon climbs to its place.
Why has the music stopped?
Why is there such silence?