The Book of the Dead

i dug a hole in a new morning
once i broke the last remains of a night
crimson, yellow and red welcomed me with open arms
a smile patted me on the back
and when i looked behind me she gave me a wink,
venus was shinning ahead of me
oh, how here is gone!
lunacy in a song
thoughts once came but now they run fast and flee
dead pigeons’ light a formerly known grave
the moon eclipsed
and every time i take a long breath
i tighten my fist
distraction, confusion is tattooed on her hip
flip channel
trip trip, press finger tips
loudness
the back of the book of the dead
furred heartbeat
pharaoh’s eyes
radiant with red, blue and yellow
a wasp stings the ancient winds
sacrifice the most beautiful to feed the nile
their eyes are attached
they speak of denial
i’m a half myth of this while
have to draw another breath or this might become a distress
i’m not happy, i’m not sad, i’m just among all of this
what i became is you
in terms of metamorphosis
where i am?
where was i?
am i back?
or gone?
unless i’m mistaken or wrong
i’m probably here.