Decapitated

To stars and suns we carry
To superhumans names in stone
Into the depths of seas of grand desires
To the thought pure, into nothingness
Limitless solitude without numbers and names
Where names a curse no longer are
The ideal one- the true number of man
The sick stench of crowded dogs
With their eyes closed
That are looking into others for gods
Rotting millions keeping guard
Of their own truths which you cannot see
A many-headed worm of names uncounted