I saw myself in a mirrored dream, in the pale solitude of death

I was a lonely child

His heart is on the tip of his tongue.

Said I could die of lovelessness

psychiatrists

Whereas me and my naughty heart were there

Everyone knew!

I knew that !

For some reason, everyone was smiling at the mirrors in that shadow game.

Our hands were bare in the midst of orphan crowds

And far away has never been so close!

While we were resting in the shadow of lost memories, we were fading in sleep.

We were fading in sleep, as we multiplied to be

The woman in blue was longing for the silent summer rains, she was bringing us together to the ground,

The wonderful pain in our wrists,

branch in that shade

Hope on the branch and the wings of the pigeons!

That never gets old song!

The endless call of the sky

They were calling us

they gave birth to us

They were killing!

What we know!

We were also gods of the heart, tired like prayer,

The sky was on the slope of the water with a spire, disappointments in its pendulum!

We're all half shadows!

Our lips are hurt

Our lips are bleeding

And sworn to drink a wailing cry born to life

We were bathed in a blood-red dream, as sharp as the sharpness of our thirst.

That painful moment washed us away

A talkative bird stood in the sky of our chest…

We were branches of blackberry trees, we vomited that strange cough taste of rain! We vomited death!

A sycamore hum is left on our palate!

Death is the illusion of eternity opposite the mirror to the water!

Death is the thorny whip of the lost oblivion that we raise ourselves in fear of never ending.

We had already cut the wolf to bird salute!

As vagrant as the wind roses, we knew our thirst in our knowing vertigo.

We knew love!

We were defeated!

Along words and paths !

we would be defeated

Through bones and ashes !

We !

We were defeated!

Life is actually a game, hangman!

We were as tall as our longest finger.

Blood in that heralded enthusiasm of the mill of fate that we point with the tip of our finger!

Wet cotton is forgotten in dreams and dry roses!

In a dream of tomorrow, we would think, write, and run out…

We wouldn't be left with what we thought we were!

A language that remained silent on its side, forgetfulness on its side!

Tomorrow is a dream!

If only our wand had a yellow, warm redness,

If only it could carry the loneliness of a cypress with its neck down!

If you could take back the ones that fell from your eyes and put them in their place,

You wouldn't have given up on your tin soldiers though!

They built tombs of stone, and chapels

The hands of my eyes are sweaty and the experience is a sad look now the hole in my pocket

I forgot myself in the applause apples falling from those trees!

We must have lost our youth in a desert fasting destined to die, at a table that was filled with hunger.

Our shadow was behind that blue, we nailed our trail to the cold of snow, we blew our love on the glass.

Cloud shadow and love everywhere!

In the endless call of war, the s/es we knotted to the sounds of seagulls, the winter that got stuck in our throat!

That's the awakening! For some reason it's always in the backyards!

Later

I remembered the river that I knew as Me and Him!

We are used to burning, flowing!

Sleep was hidden in the hope of my soul, who failed in the account of obscurity!

I say he was a treacherous brother with the patched shirt I always wear without iron, my secluded passage that makes red rain from the unruly clouds of a worn-out past!

Whispering rain in the half-asleep gaze of the heavens!

That's why my shadow that you nailed to the dream of my pain would melt

For example, I was going to cry when the victory in the joy of the dreamers called after me.

Blinds are after me

My ashes are in my hands

I'm still looking for a cemetery to myself

I saw myself in a mirrored dream, the pale solitude of death

The way I know is north

I was the kid trying to swing himself on the swing, no one knew!

While they are slipping away like a singular secret in the shelter of the scream they thought they were going to die,

In the vanishing at the dawn of the horizon, I was kneaded again!

Plural and crowded in the silence I was born

I was not in the nothingness where I died!

Everyone had as much ground as a wish in the idle well of a blind deafness!

I named their existence as absence, their absence as stillbirth!