And yet...We always try to make the words talkAnd words play dead sometimesA possum across the roadRuns from speedThe car freezesSilence is backBut this timeThe little bug is hugeWith big popping eyesAnd words?Words haven't said a thing yetand yet the Silence. B.O.M. imagen de pinterest.
Still remote, the flame of day appears to me behind this dream. l turn my head back, and further back l see a man, sat on the stone of night. There he is, withing, despite all darkness wondering who is that, walking in his shadow, dying of love, laughing at death. ... Leer más →
A drop of day, into the memory I see, the gray Sunday remains forever, like pigments from a city on my fingers, the nude body your body. The streets like an extension of breath, I breathe until extinct. Raised from unseen feet, the steps are invisible, after all. But a further sleep... Leer más →