Pain In The Last Path

I walk along
paths of my exile
but death
is just half of them

infinite are hours of time
torn out of night

when i lie burning in restless, painful yearning
listen to knocks of pulse, rhythym of my heart
and feels without trouble, that this is last hour
darkness drops fat, throttling with folds

bowls aloud call for poison
in honour this, which not one can see

source does fills quickly
behind the back this, which not one can see