shape of mnemonics box
do you hear the scream,
the silence of his steps
the tormented urn of my mouth
wide opened to hear
forgetfulnesses and discards;

just here the door already guards the eyes,
the dense wave that on the windows
is living and calling:
where do you hear sounds, where? - tell me.

another little kiss,
a cast added to my soul:
I bring you beyond my eyes;
the eye socket places at a distance

and drags us there where's no way out
except the borderline of the eyelids
removed just a little by sleep.

tell me, what kind of shape will we have
behind the memories of this house that swallows
all of our things leaves are slashing out;

we'll have little to say with our eyes,

with the length of the lash line that elsewhere

leaves behind and peers our smell.