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Farewell

I probably more than words. The eyes of the tears were absorbed. The gesture overwhelmed.
Everything blue in direct sunlight where the sentence breaks, such a stake.
Wrinkles where life flows.
I have that presence, at any wind. Hands out of my throat to touch you.
The one part I miss.
And you, who cry, I miss you too.

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Let me explain

I explain to myself first, then the other.
Today I did something crazy. Full weekend, so that nothing and nobody, not even my "mission" does not force me to, I went to visit Mrs A, who died in hospital (not in our local hospital).
Well, the psychiatrist, she has nothing else to fuck the weekend? A spouse, children, friends, hobbies? It is suspicious, j'vous say, she manages well its not about death.
Ben, much respect my feelings and my desires. How else do you want me to be able to host this famous psychic dimension in others if I denied to myself?
I came, you answer I feel, my words, vocalizations.
Then the doctor came and told us to all of us, your children, you and me, this absolute mess of you. Everyone stood
throat or heart, looking at you.
The pain was immense. And love too.
I said goodbye, I knew I never see you again in life.
I said "I love you and with you, take the cart ... "
You moved your hand.
I went out, and I cried.
course you going to miss me, and before I returned to the chamber 39, your room, where they will install another person in retirement homes, I will time.
And when at last I entered, everything will return to you.
At this price, recognition of the pain felt at the death of someone we know intimately, we do not live with ghosts. I could make up for this new person.
You and I are left in peace.

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sleigh

Worlds drunk dotting the lashes of your eyes and go, but travelers in the orbit paths hummed past. You say
rivers that cross and the banks that delight. You say the taste of flesh the earth, when she has that taste of space where you drift, in-between. You hum, "The cart". It's your favorite tune.
You smile the laughter of children.
You stand on this platform. You shake a little hand in a farewell mischievous and tender.
Thanks.

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They ... You

They have, in the corridors, dreams and complaints, from their lives and hopes of the most expensive, which wind in my flesh. They
verbs crazy spinning buttons, melting wires.
Suns plaguing the soul.
glances pierce you.
And words that will forever
Do you leave intact and more deceptive. They
these gentle hands that call
These eyes swaying
Their words and melodies like sailing to sail
A little ...
at night and ink, forever baffled,
faseille Their breath.

And those relatives also declined, their litanies.
Their dedication, their lives were murdered. Then the madness

beautiful flourishes in the hosts we are.
And this cluster, nebula, spin in the gaps lives slaughtered.
pepper, salt and irritated skin that bleeds.
Virus can not be eradicated.

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When nothing
Words gestures
A whirlwind
worlds scattered
Crossed, unvarnished
Who thinks the slightest
joined the shadow
Words whispered
When you and me on the bench
meetings
unroll our
twisted chaos at the height of our tears
scrambled origin of the world Nothing

All
In From the sky the sun dissolved
diffuse
Frost took the hand Of our departed spirits

In this perdition
Without anything or anyone
And this call of the heart that resonates
When you smile at me
Sun!

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Toussaint

Pain offerings
You, the night lit by autumn maple leaves
brought
For bouquets created soft murmurs
You
What nobody can hear.
When my broken heart, knows.
What? The whole life
rushed.
"Toussaint, join," you say.
my hand in yours
Sweaty and vibrant butterflies are our lives.