There is life. In shades of blue and brown. In vengeance and despair. In orgasm and fresh spring mornings. In death. In sun and burn. In the flow of horses and universal entropy. In blind and deaf. In lullabies. In collisions and things that never were. In cycle and square. In peaches. And pleasure and sperm and wispered vaginal secrets. In all the places I hide. In those you find me in (when you do). In crossroads and the morphing of shades. In amnesia and liquid lithium nightmares. In the wake. In the sleep. In tyrants and children and their tales. In wonder and oblivion. In all those centuries I won't live to know. In your lips. In my hands, for they are not dead. In the absence of words. In salt and the death of weeds. In the shapes that haunt my dreams. In the people that brighten your days. In you and me as islands. In us.
Today, I propose you to travel into me. Then, I wish you to travel alone. And, at the end… tell me your story.
[The ‘game’ is quite simple… i'm just catching (mine-your) imagination. I’ll catch an image and then I'll translate you, in words, what it makes me feel (or just the other way). But I wonder what you’ll be thinking of, when you see them? What you're feeling… because, after all, it is only my point of view, just words of mine. I wonder where you’ll be traveling with them and it would be perfect if you could bring something back into me. I wonder if you-we can?]
There is life.
ReplyDeleteIn shades of blue and brown.
In vengeance and despair.
In orgasm and fresh spring mornings.
In death.
In sun and burn.
In the flow of horses and universal entropy.
In blind and deaf.
In lullabies.
In collisions and things that never were.
In cycle and square.
In peaches.
And pleasure and sperm and wispered vaginal secrets.
In all the places I hide.
In those you find me in (when you do).
In crossroads and the morphing of shades.
In amnesia and liquid lithium nightmares.
In the wake.
In the sleep.
In tyrants and children and their tales.
In wonder and oblivion.
In all those centuries I won't live to know.
In your lips.
In my hands, for they are not dead.
In the absence of words.
In salt and the death of weeds.
In the shapes that haunt my dreams.
In the people that brighten your days.
In you and me as islands.
In us.