Keep your trace clean, make it a border to the enemy and a lighthouse to the friend.
Keep your trace clean, make it a border to the enemy and a lighthouse to the friend.
Orphaned moments pass. They go out. Without listening to the heartbeat.
Joy. It grows every time. You can swim. Single. Among the many.
You dedicate time looking at her. You never gain the image. You ask for more. She. Gave you an “I love you”.
Eyes are searching. That image. One in between. Insatiable thirst. You don’t fool it. No matter how many parade in front. Faithful to its lack. You lull hope. You ask for miracles.

Expectation. Hope. Every dawn is a white page. Sprinkled by a dream. Random routes. Colorless Magnets. Odorless. Whatever you like looks like a trail. You get lost. You feel blessed. You know that there she is.
Big fight. Temptations fight your attention. They are looking for an Image. Siege. Conquest to celebrate.

The joy grows the present time. It hangs the present time outside the line of your images. To brighten your memory. Free from human counting. It charms life. And you ask for more light. You are thirsty. The place is as empty as the desert. Lots of yesterdays. A struggle.
Not to be thirsty any more.
Special. The days that exist. The sweet routine embraces expectation. Beautifully smells the life..
Walk without breath from wants. Pointless sacrifice. In a joyless life.