Today I will shed my body and meet you halfway at watery address. My eyes were not blinking to hold the clouds.
To live or not to live was a great pain. Two small hands and two bubbling eyes glued to a broken wall was my hope. And glitter of the road, fallen trees, dead panther, had sacrificed my sun.
I think I live to die daily, and die daily to live again over the enormous property of shame.
Melting in my own blood I was becoming dark. The night was dancing on my sadness. Now it was me, shaking in remoteness of a distant voice!
