Falling through a fragrance
like stumbling on soft sunshine

Inhaling water through the eyes
that melt butterflies on your lips

Everything

and the stroke of a heart

so she said I
but she meant no
and that is how it began

the masters escaped the context
locked down in the act of words
as the shrieking silence
sews safety pins
through whispering lips

the woman lies still now
on the kitchen table
as the clothes crumples on the floor
he has stopped playing
begun to undress reality

but the body of this text
can not be captured
penetrated by the reader's mind
but flies around as painted eyes
on a talking serpent

so he said You
but he meant yes
and the end winds away

vanishes

How far is it?
There is dirt on my feet, black and sore
Spreading all over the pages of Lillith
This earth I am traveling from, in agony
I cannot undo myself
The heart keps beating me
There is a minute, a split second, a lifetime  
How far is it?