I turn to myself , to look for remains of time My past gives birth to torsos of dead hours of mine Present brings abortion-days into this nameless world Devoured rotting flesh of my unspoken words I can feel the walls the maze of smiles of fake Built of blows of mine I can feel the walls leads my steps astray Mutants of birth and breeding-sharp fangs to hire Ariadne's thread made of barbed wire Doors open to Nowhere, beyond invisible sill Walls of deranged concepts keep on growing still