They fix a planet before your eyes to be able to see, exchange all stitches that lacerate my ideas for a hit of a mute feeling.
Exchange all blind shots that I have been making lately by these two eyes that look at me and seem to speak without pause.
Willing to return to the wild and seductive breath, marking its turbulent passage
Breaking the habit, common strategy dominance order, pause and thinking.
Creating emblems, eternal space, light trails, doctrine of devotion on you.
Toy scourge downgraded subjected to prolonged moments, stunned, asleep.
Every gesture rebase the idea allowing a predictable path and orientation confused with no use when feelings are aliens.
Any place is mine,
Any place is no place.