The steel of time


A flag disturbs the emptiness in the dark of the room, leaving the chairs in the perennial interrogation of the future. A quiet sound remembers the dark colour side of the blood.

I am going to seat myself a little in the hands of the time.

I found that still I am waking up in the way of the life. I found that I make a road of this liquid silence that the hymn repairs.

I am a second in a foam sea, over your flower road.

Repairs of a stop sign flows from the step stairs. I count cents that I write while I know myself in the steel of the time.

A soft leg allows some luminous joys in the roses.

A victory to cover grass is enough to me … it comes to me from your gold lust.