Rahel,
can you smell the raw flesh of darkness burning between us
we can light up the candle made from our wax of past
Shall I pluck one hair of you?
In return I shall give you my shapeless nail
Without a mask
Your hair so quickly burns in the fire like our sex
Rahel,
You remembering, laying on my painted floor
Searching for the empty tin of red paint
Wearing the lip color from its emptiest elements
I remembering my teeth less paint brush
Making wounds on your flesh
And makes you pained
my fingers embrace each other deeply
As if moving toward deep sex
Rahel,
you lying in my portrait as half burnt
A departed tail of a lizard falls from the roof
and shivering in your eye brows
particles of termite from the roof falls in to my eyes.
Making my paralysed fingers as a viewer,
termites started spreading in my eyes
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem