who knows if we trully own our words or they own us too many sunsets and dawns are happening in the same time and the departed are tormenting us with the song of their flesh I found a rhyme in you absence rhymes with presence somewhere in the hands of time
my cells have their own theories and fruits of dying even porcelain dreams when I am with you I enter the tunnel of vision I can see better what happens with fused from confused me and him trapped in the asylum of gestures somnabulists through our own skins while they are busy scrolling God forbid to hear the sadness of a time that is getting darker and darker
a soul history is like the caligraphy of dunes the psyche toiling its dark materials sketching shadows from imagination the cabaret of desire contemplating all the wonderful trivial terrible beings you can be. a wave in my mind you are between the visible and invisible man the wisdom of the shamans
I walk on streets, I see things, I touch hands suffering from imagination deficit disorder. sometimes I have thoughts in reverse but I cage my heart in this shrine of memory while I am looking for you dawn by dawn, bird by bird
when the night finds its resonant frequency my heart feels like a compass I let her find the scent of your body let's get lost my hands would say and let no wind find us and let no why and no road find us my face illuminated by the song of birds your face illuminated by the laziness of a sea that only we can see let's get lost so we can find each other in the archive of veins
you, an event on my retina an accident of time colliding with itself my hands have pulse on your t-shirt everything in its place like a silence waiting to happen the speed of smile measured in light-seconds this body is a house of metaphors a space for living words forgetting my name
Thus shall ye think of all this fleeting world: A star at dawn, a bubble in a stream, A flash of lightning in a summer cloud, A flickering lamp, a phantom, and a dream.