And if I decide to renew the winter
with forging the cuffs
sour smoke made with the suffocation
light with the blooming of fingerprints.
Al glimpse from above the little boxes,
may ask me,
what time are transformed
brains and blood on the release of the red-hot irons?
and if my position is biased enclencle
to satisfy the hunger soluble
confused with walking streets forgettable trash striped
between intention and truth,
but melted into anger and disgust, discomfort
psychotic banding micas tired.
The representation of a giant sleeping eyelids forcing
who rocks you in his hands in his symphonies of other groups.
Love limited to a cup of tea and a warm
stray crumbs and stale,
the silence of all objects to mock the individual
mirror.
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