I laid down,with chest against the sharpest frostravaging snow,
to feel if therein,was any of heat.
I stabbed a knife in my hart,60 times in a minute,
to see if that thicket of darkened evil would start to beat.
My desert scream,to understand its existence,
braked the night and dyed it,with my blood and aggression.
My surface of glass,cracked,and i read in its pattern,
nothing but hate,urges of brutality,to be in its possession.
Written 1988 november
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