for a long span
my old timed
pocket watch
forever-during
that annoying sound
of a knive sharping
coming ethernal almost
rubbed against
a wet-dull-langlebig
river stone
"In front of
the horror
until becoming it
derisory"
She asked me as
every blank canvas
why having lunch there
under the flight of
an unknown biplane
I answered like
the first sinopian ský(los):
cause Yessir!, Mr. Starve
visited me in here
Sailing once in her eyes
dancing twice onto her hair
we surely will meet again
In heaven or in Éire
