"Between Two Haunting Poles, Living Harmonics of Resonant Existence"

It is between love and hate where illusions die —
die out of selfishly generated boredom,
or whisper forever haunted without a loving and breath-taking smile.

All begrudged, oddly accused lovers,
in one way or another, live inside egg-shaped metallic exile,
headlessly losing themselves in this blazing inferno
conducted as a flickering orchestra —
bowing down t…