Kategori: Poesi

The exhalation cloud on the sagittarius read the pendulum of infinity to balance that one again who is actually stretched into timelessness.

Down the I which remembers the thoughts of you with dual heads, to become the separated forgotten likelihood of steps, as an all end story mirror.
A flood-tide of vibration in great branches.
It is a passage to the always figures of the ice-pack.

By delicate letting hands our sky is crossed with coming nights waring the reason that any future prepares in place of the unending clouds of my body.
It is a blind passing in dew, a presesence to an earth reborn on a threshold of summer virtue.

I am the nerve of the witnessed alphabets heaven upon the printed side of eternity with the subtle shimmering guides of something transcending far behind my eyelids.

My dear prisoned red flow of beneath whispers to me like morning sun light.
I am ambrosia.
And disinherited glass caves of life sealed in the I child of the cold.

The not and distant shock fire memories that crack the rigging colour of the zigzags subway son where lilies salt our world.

Faces haunts the stone of fools sons and travel places on the innermost liquid hell.
Its a walking shelter of vulgarity.
Of time covered in silence.

Out for the words we hail to love and say to the answered eclipse of the vision, and to wrestle happily with the images they make.
A moment in and beyond, after the other.
It is a stony way for the heart.

I like to eat clouds and branches filled with natures voices in stones.

This is certain
I am not the my.
To convince me otherwise, my language made attempts to my body to sure myself of me, at of which my words was born.
Its an avalanche that can bury you.

I own my flesh to time, not to the I where my nothing could desire my wanted imaginations necessity in myself.
I am my best constant.

The eyes we make for earth are roads for travel the unknown in man’s given meaning of fate as a sign of an endless thought.

My veins siren and forgotten ocean nights.
In charming moments with the one who visits this dark for the stars in my skin and for the shapes in my air.
It does make multitudes of her sky for my underground, and for my immortality box.

Sunlit and greedy.
The ash of silence state the name for the wings.

We word under disgust in exile, in the distorted freedom of our electric dream life.
This is our first climb of energy and the owl is the course.

I am stepping into a season carefully called frozen on new fibres of the wind.
Its a nerve dance and in absolute clear green.

Right there between your dream and I who evil light will accept as the you there and not your living will.
A dark self settles with that and with the warmth senses of ego oppression.
It will tolerate your reason as we speak.

During the self and the now my instruments passage made of mirrors and beating on life awaits me when the in there alone are not where the from rises.

My windows breathe within those elegant reservoirs of a great fog who make these signs far above the time of any childhood clothed with my thoughts behind the bars of an automatic yesterday which are not mine.

The north son always shuffle us through the clocks in a mad distant sulphur mornings length towards the child-wheel.

This stage is only for the search of the challenges of images above the rules of each man before the intermission we affirm in our flights to harvest transparence.

Legs encircle the face of the morning sun with crystal stars to liquefy the distant burned brightness and bite the subway memory off in charming sensibility.

To consolidate the I in its pure pretension of numbered formations and calculated acrobatics one galvanizes true worship in a spontaneous theatre.

Physical scissors gives judgment by the meridian dark machine’s swimming in the clouds.
Our hands meet.
The nimble rain pleasures baggage on the our itself.

It is the faces we climb in us towards the mouth of no fruit and mad stars that burns like a distant morning brightness.
That´s the hunger.
Not me.

Stairs that appears in drawers are remembered like holes inside the bird womans virgin steps of ice from the sea to the source.

Pamphlets of time takes the boredom of grief by the distributed account of change back to me and takes the connection alone to no schedule of entrance

Life bounds the last delight of dreams and glides my past tomorrow soft in living breathes to the forever wildly crowned

The reveals of my transparency without a crowd of troubled animals burns as deltas in wonderful tears
It is of reigns in these I envy their candour

Sad faceless modesties accompany my wings more waken in the unwilling skins of elsewhere

Only the touches of a sun dress a person to speak as of like to carry his desert

Sails before the dazzled contours see the all that springs your fire in a certain luminous reigns conveyer

That mute folding seeing the scatters of motion between earth lightning and its nude limits of a life to think of the paralysed sweet visible seductive praise you simulate
The immensity ripples in masses of a welcome, descending in itself between rising

A crystal image hiss that throws an endless wild
against of never bold through this, but foiled within the hollow edge of nightly bright.
I am a streaming ruin when for all with virtue, thick of content having fabled summons pain

Eyes made from stars of diamond gleam
Like bright candles singing from no light
waking their servants

Faceless praise between the bounded possibles of a visible immensity descending like a dark bodily touch of a rising night sun.

I too bend mountains in my palms.
With all my passengers of the subterranean barometric life, and in the will of the future.
And with the sun in my head to make eyes, the yet of no ground with any town, crowns the steps of i do to a woman.
But the wolves in here will always await my forgotten instrument while playing for the shadows.

I am visited in the snowy water drops by a distant here of letters written on a night sky sound i depend on.

Our old internal scented your black shattered tell.
That greedy brew being your intended filled say of light.
In you, on your raven wings of old.
We are merging the crimson flare of clairvoyant skin.

Cathedral woods respond like the immense now and in itself upon you, bounding the within to a single falling leaf and the uncertain morning light dissolved.

The swarm sings some imaginary white in your idleness, alone to the elusive interpretations of the first light crossing the surrounding hour of dawn.

A dark surprised side habit of infinity stretching a chain of hermetic nothing into our moving, crawling all over us on the hope for a preserver.

The soft subterranean transparency of separated stars on dark passes plants the names of those that wear them to become separated brazier curves behind a beating vibration.

Beneath ourselves at the sky speaking to the living birth of plain possession, to the unending face of seasons, I give ways over to the other age of my earthward breathes for keeping the threshold cultivated.

To our noiseless stream of embroideries we feed the alchemy of yesterday with the breath of hollow moons.

The breeze of fatality begins beyond the still jumbled voids filled from earths vast unfolding ocean of dreams.

Old fields rhyme in crops where the city streets hide words with blue nurturing dreams of time in the growing sun.

We are gratefully sleeping to the devoured riddled reflection of might, watching the living conversation flow under old pillars which replace our griefs.

An exhaled vision of an old hour pouring sovereign syllables of random sanity on the pavement to feed the muse with words of water.

With dreams on her cushions deeper drifting in a gentle heart, breathing the enveloped secrets living rays. The whole dozing roses of depths becomes the nothing of memories in immortality.