February 2011
9 tags
your hair playing with my eyes
thrice you blinked at my sudden arrival, and two of those times the fanfare announcing me was delayed… the way your lips would take their time when the stampede of my skin would approach you -once and only once- to merge my pores with yours and make of that a new skin to clothe us when the constellations take root in another arm of the spiral, or the sea becomes exhausted of opening its legs...
Stop the Insanity
Let me sleep. Abandon my dreams. Leave the premises. You are not paying rent anymore. So get the fuck out of my mind.
