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It's never more than a few setbacks
Only a few more setbacks that you have at most to record
Loved to contemplate the seconds once again
Immersed in a silence that falls away in appearance
On its way as a way of playing out death for good
Nestled in this warm humidity all cut off from this somewhat unhappy atmosphere
Sickly attracted by this beast viscerally shaken to the depths of your being
My lips are soaked in this mixture
We are bloody and you sink into dementia
Cut open
Flowing in silence
Running in ignorance
It is not these meager ripples that will cleanse the slump in which you are confused
Nor sweep away these chimeras by vaulting into a ball where your wonders are kissed my immaculate sisters in the middle of these putrefied carcasses