Shadows were talking, we arrived nowhere.
Text was smaller than life.
Millennium hung on our eyes,
rattling the long distance calls.
Our house was ruined,
multiple windows turned into walls and poems died.
Your face has become an empty vase.
Dismembered cast off in the corner of the house.
A dreadful ruffled body of the past glory.
I was nearly buried in quick sand.
Now I talk to trees, the carpeted clouds, and move again.
My hands suffered lifting the polarities.
Random tears disturbing the heart beats.
Knowledge was painful and diminutive people spoiled my collections.
The stones, flowers and wings separated our lives.
