The curse of mortality:
handing everything over day by day

a finger lingers on my lips
carefully touching pulsing heat
I wonder how this love will taste

The right statement
is silence and fusion
of our tounges.

It’s where we smoked our cigarettes
because we were already living for way too long
but we never jumped of the roof

we only let the smoke
burn our lungs from inside out
and wanted death to come closer slowly.