I do not know what to tell you but they are the sailing waters and the spontaneity of your feet When the Sun and death haunt my waking in this table of carbon lust the finger lifts and you imagine me undone by half but the world turns and its delights embark on the migration to my eyes of plant waiting for the time of morning bath your feet revolve with the tenderness of the foam they ride into the roof of my house and read Peret love comes as a bug While you are distracted with the mouth and those lips that passionately crash each other the violence of the clouds are my land
pain travels in front of us I have pursued it in your breath from the first ray that pounded the Earth in the awakening of the stones and the birds hunger appeared in the beautifully useless walks through those avenues
While the snow created flakes to unleash the fury of the fire at your feet I settle sweetly bathed and satisfied