yellow lines in the mist,
faces in mask
and soft paper smiles
zigzag in a dream
soundless,
yet so loud
prayerless
beneath the moon;
the sapphire woman is your friend
tonight
with the orange lipstick
and an accent,
she tells me you live down the lane
fluid lights, gliding,
a violent kiss on glass
we stop by for a word
in dream silence
your kiss tastes a bit too odd
this evening
your touch travels places
and crumbles into dust;
timeless
music invades your body
and crawls up your skin
like an orgasm
so can't poets be normal,
you ask me,
will songs ever heal
our child of snow?
your eyes, wet like a violin storm
fall back deep
in time
the moon sinks from your world
like a stolen radio signal,
walls and lost code
a strangle lane in smoke,
almost liquid
and winding
you said I never dream….
