Inside the deep forests of dolor where I secretly hide my weepings, where I conceal my dreads... The snake is slumbering like a dead limb, I am cold in your body. I penetrate into your wounds where eyes are watching for me, numb gapings, threshold with no borders, oblivion of flesh and mourning. Small mimetic animal, I wander through your recesses tasting like salt flower. Flesh cathedral, I dissect your entrails, dreadful irradiated fate, where I consider the real shape of the circle, thousand times.