Beside my war god
cuttings in all the angles of the self
are being born...

My weapons reflect the letters' light
towards his smile
suffused in bitter-sweet hopes...

The tiredness of my soul
will utter its entire word
shining of sound within each letter...

The thrill of being
love
will be rolled
in a war
where the embrace
of a profane mortal
for a god
means
spoils.