Unknown lack,

opaque mirror,

where the dream is getting lost.

Black is reverberating,

while light shine

her darkness,

she prevents,

the blinking eyes,

the sweat to flow,

a flower’s spasm to grow in the shade.

A denying head is a little death,

the smile finding is way to the light.

Aside loving,

aside lover,

freedom of the many.

​

​

Sleeping trade wind means calm sea,

the sailor's heart jumps,

makes up waves.

Flown flowers,

Rootless romances.

 

​

The noise,

the kid in the corner,

cube, tube, groaning.

The cotton wool pukes from the cuddly toy's throat,

the playground is clearing out,

swings howling the absence.

Lack of the awful machines' grinding noise,

the soul is rising,

the body is squeezing,

the soul is washing out,

the frank echo.

Stay.

 

​

Lit. Blink. Burn,

Wide open maw,

upon a new horizon.

The disenchanted sailor,

who see his land moving.

Land there was, typhoon took it away,

sound of the removed cork,

sound of the flowing wave,

sailor, of born illusions,

swallow the the bitter, colored liquid.

You can eat the impossible with a little spoon nowadays,

yes sir.

 

​

Open a door and dying upon the void,

the handle in the hand,

lost instants.

Strong collars which are rooling up and marks the flesh.

A skull is far more poetic

when some flies wander

into the darkness of the eye socket.

Embraces,

Rotting the wlatz,

Leaded moon.

Harlequin is dancing, irons on his feet,

for the sleepy little kids' wicked pleasure.

He's dreaming the cosmos.

Blown dust,

erased wind,

giving themselves to the ash's sediment,

vanish in a hand gesture.

 

​

Ring the day,

the little girl is falling alseep upon her hopes,

warm between her eyelashs.

Dark mass starting to seep,

rolling pearl,

marks the furrow.

Scents, tastes, I don't forget you.

When digging our own grave,

we prefer choosing our own furniture.

We don't want to spend the eternity without beeing able to sit. Nagging waltz,

with anxious breaths,

the ones by those who have none anymore.

Lost,

flying away,

fleeing,

to never meet again.

​

​

​

In the uproar,

dream’s are elating.

Struggle,

nothing’s worthy of the executioner’s challenge,

the happy morgue.

Bittersweet cellar,

Litres, until you.

Ether thoughts, until you.

Mud, until you.

Walk, walk, chew,

Sundays with cynical mortality,

we don’t imaginge,

the rat’s solitude below the socialites.

​

​

Borred finger's smacking,

the nothinhness' unbending surface

Without the gloomy eye

catching himself a fly,

a lonely vagrant and mocking fly.

Static ocean,

to my eyes,

in the same way,

the bug and the time.

 

​

Gloomy gymnastics,

grab the one who's coming,

for his own good,

in my linguistic cell

a bit dirty,

dry, useless,

embedded in word,

sweet titaniums words,

unchanging.

 

​

Self danger,

semantic, hic,

the verbs' fangs,

jab, sting the eyes.

Rolled up and smoked out stone,

wrinkle its uncoiled sail.

Why does it crack,

rather swallows.

It is done and given.

The beast rapes its vocabulary,

and stand straight.

They don't get

the world's stuttering.

They bite through the hinge,

underneath the vault,

a light's opening,

laughable.

Matters ripping

who live to avenge their existence.

 

​

Boredom's silence,

the clock's tick-tock,

the old lady smokes,

glad,

nothing's happening.

The montionless is king,

in the house of the olds,

tomorrow's got the colors of the impossible.

 

​

The clowns' laughing tear your cheeks to pieces,

the music,

obscene,

howls its discrepancy.

Death strikes,

the audience is in ecstasises.

The artist salute,

the father stays quiet.

Little thing shivering in the embrace.

Unnerved.

Strong.

Charlène.

 

​

The relation's shiver,

the funambulist is tensing himself,

pearled cheek.

The wind blows,

the iced eyes wind.

​

 

Raw,

End,

Nothing,

Good.