Inside the deep forests of dolor
where I secretly hide my weepings,
where I conceal my dreads...
The snake is slumbering like a dead limb,
I am cold in your body.

I penetrate into your wounds
where eyes are watching for me,
numb gapings, threshold with no borders,
oblivion of flesh and mourning.
Small mimetic animal,
I wander through your recesses
tasting like salt flower.

Flesh cathedral,
I dissect your entrails,
dreadful irradiated fate,
where I consider the real shape
of the circle, thousand times.