The Lost Vowels

I came to conquer the heights of depth

To recline my bones with bare presence

To multiply and fragment my past

I came to depict my ignition

I take a walk through whole gardens planted

With automatic kaleidoscope paintings

The lone survivors of our dreams

Who are the landscapes of our dreams theirselves

I drink perfume masked by paper hats

To submerge in myths and imagery

I drink perfume masked by abridged loss

To drown in ancient gypsy songs

I carry the lost vowels, once part

Of nacreous descending horizons,

We lost at our masked ball of confusion

In the eyes of our shattered fever dreams

I came to knock on every door

And leave every door untouched

Besides the fire marks my outsiderness

Left in the unspoken sea of nearness

Do I long for the landscapes of before?

For the cities blown away by their spinelessness?

No, I long for the ancient rivers

Singing gypsy hymns that carried me to their world

I can no longer breathe the vapour of my youth

I outlived too many feverdreams on my own

In quietness I will sink in an abyss of desire

And guide my old restraint to its exile