at the narrow end at every hour
the endless minutes cram together like orphans
i’m breathing a black porridge
sticky and hot
my blood is fiercely dashing to the shore
a rock is hanging from my neck
an anchor on the heart

impatient ghosts are haunting the streets
like the ruins of an abandoned city
the buildings are losing their firmness
the ground is emanating a dantean stench
i’m coming out of the house
like the wraith out of a grave

infused with the fumigations
of smouldering nights
i'm taking out for airing
the bastard conceived from the incest
with my own loneliness