••• XXXVI

call roll for all flowers beheaded

unless there is anything else lost in the grass.
else than hands of a greying dandelion.

.,.

••• XXXIV

hexed all

ferns reaching out like hands of passed newborns. lost like blindness in amniotic fluid. directed like a cry. for breath.

.,.

••• XXXIII

we didn't even try to save your souls

a concert some nights ago rooting me back in whoever i feel i am. music serving for an anchor again, just like this place always does. a connection to all things ever-running. by ties of pleasure, sorrow and dusky energy.

what kind of child could i possibly become, sliding down along such sidelines? 

not even struck by the cohesion of both planes. 

.,.

••• XXXII

secret me away, will you

a place deepest inside, far away from scaly pillows.

pathway to and fro. found in the absence of Armadillo. no dream.

.,.