Hi, I’m waiting for myself.
Nothing matters in my craving.
Hi, I’m calling for my breath.
From the side without saving.
Die in gray formation yards.
Die in stories and newspapers.
Die and break into two parts.
Like two angels, like two capers.
It’s the difference between
The collections of the paintings,
The collections might have been
In the creamy dull dim waiting…
Hi, I’m waiting for myself
In the warnings and disasters.
Hi, I’ve found them some twelve
Sins and lacks to grow dark faster…
14.10.2011 (5:40pm)
(Book 16 "Without Her Galaxies", cycle 92 "The Eyes Of The Suns")