Asking too much from this emptiness, structure and language. Some
love nest between the eyes lies love in complete quietness and iso-
lation, a lonely planet in the distance. Not to want, or a complete loss
of time, or both. From your hips come a tight embrace, gilded in mad
desire from another side of what is life, transferred by frequencies.

Give up defences, dropping of humanities, pyramid of eternal longing
at midday sun, eyes or desolation. We travel on, held by the heels in poi-
son Ivy below, and fly. There is a night deformed by beauty and a living
memory, just keep quiet when you see it or feel it's meteorite burn.
******* back asking too much from a lonely hell?