THE OLD HOUSE IS SLEEPING
I stood on my toes, turning my gaze on all directions.
old house, save a lot of things.
step on my right leg.
scent of jasmine burst into my palms.
"celina..celina..celina .."
his name I call three times.
body figure running limp.
long hair stranded ..
celina..less girl.
scribbled suffering with ink.
the blood ink of the killers.
The celina sits in submissiveness.
raved in rotten whispers.
like a spell.
you can be deaf instantly.
I try to read.
clutter of messy lines.
Celina dead tragedy.
open accident.
