The sea is made of ink
I only think
of you.
Observe.

I am just another blood drinker
not wasting his lapis
so I write that I love you
like I love the morning sun

If I could believe
that dreamy stars
made of the same crystals
of your eyes' dark orbs
shining like torches
over my desolate spirit
would see the crucified light
of this non sense melody.