Nocturne of the Defeated Hero.

Where did the moon go?
Here she is. There are two tonight. Identical.
A still, dense air. Vanilla shadows in the dull sky, the clouds move slowly.
They enter the barn, they are purple. Green.
Again the owl, the crying of the scops owl.
The river is silent, not a breath of wind caresses the snake's skin.
Slips into the robe the mouse, again, again, I hear you little bastard where are you.
How many more times, I'm cold, I'm alone. I grit my teeth, hold my breath, it's not easy, all of this really isn't easy. A deep breath, come on beautiful it's done. And it's right that it happens right here. Love with life, love with death, why does it always end?
That day, I remember, there was a flat light, and she stood up with an indolent smile. It's cold tonight. She looked at the expanse of the sea, stagnant liquid metal. She lingers on the hanger of her swimsuit, her back tanned. The hook snaps, the fabric elastically retracts. Look and don't touch, we are children's souls.
A sip of bleach to return to virginity. Another sip, my love? It's a little strong but it's good.
Are you here? Oh yes, you are here. Who are you?
It begins, finally.
I was saying.
What was I saying?
Warrior virgin, androgynous body, narrow boy's hips. She faces the waves in knee-deep water. The cold caress rises to the groin, she tilts her head back. She cuts through the water, is far away, her arms rise rhythmically.
I am alone. No, I can hear you. Touch me. Touch me now, with your icy fingers. Again and again like this please never end.
Whose hands are these? I laugh convulsively. A sob escapes me that no one listens to.
God, there's something really comical about this.
Can you just tell me what, please?