The I
and its narrow eyelid cries
It overflows the sound of walking
when we roam the footsteps in mute lanes
The fragments of apocalyptic capitals
clotted the descending creatures
with temptations
enveloped over streets in tears
A population by another branch
virtues math in distilling memories
And around the flesh is a smooth width
of the almost other
The void is a darkened city with a crown