It’s a serene morning, extremely simple
Only with ray, leaves, trash, and a cicada’s pain
Something kept leaping in the burning hot
A little filtered ray from the window
Stroked my neck, itching me
Where my hands reached, it
Melted. As if everything
Couldn’t be myself
Prescription
I felt my body as a stone
That lost the temperature, struggle and sexual fantasy
In a dark blue night, it put a silver needle
At the point of my left ear, picking paled-hard will
And detected toxic of the right ear
To offer a perfect excuse for the life
It prescribed a pill of Painkiller