day 67

Our faces split the world into unequaled

    parts;

Perhaps, one to give us a firm standing,

And

    another to submerge us in perpetual

drown            -ing.

 

Our minds merge the coasts with the crushing

    waves;

Perhaps, to wall the mysteries with sand,

Or

    to unleash the fucking, common typhoon

- oid

 

        don't hold back,

    cry.

The worst is yet

                to come.