Poetry

In the shell lies the eye of a dark sea 
I call for a boat in delirium. 
Waves drown the hunger of a climax. 
I do not know where all the gulls have gone? 
 
Time slips like flesh between the knuckles 
and an extra pain of your separation. 
I am shipwrecked on the slopes of whispers 
and don’t want to have a second death. 
 
Looking back at the years 
as a sentence in exile, 
I never reached the home. 
Ultimately you need the hunchback to 
climb the stairs.