Taste Of Anger

To The Throat

The letter is the line and nothing but the line.

You will come, you will come, you will come...

You will come as the white nymphs came to me that day, telling me that you are coming. Then a white thread passed before my eyes.

Then I waited for you until my heart fell to the bottom, almost swallowed up by the earth, if not for the fear that beats inside me whenever it comes to my mind that we were walking together towards the unknown, pushing my heart a little towards the top, to the throat.

"Put your right hand on my chest, there's no better of water to extinguish fire." Those hands of yours didn't touch my chest but rather gnawed it brutally.

Fear is necessary and chronic, so why should I be afraid? We are not ourselves who came from the unknown. Fear is the compass of those who have lost faith. Therefore, in the last days, my heart does not fall. Look at it, angry but quiet, surrendering to the unknown.