Lonely ride. You spend hours. You cry for love. You leave the gates wide open. Without fear. To feel alone.
Lonely ride. You spend hours. You cry for love. You leave the gates wide open. Without fear. To feel alone.

Each weekend is a ghetto. You are seeking to belong somewhere. You meet. Your own routine. A welcoming loneliness.
Games. Without guilt. You dive into them.
You accompany. You fell glad.
Islets of time. Growing life.
In the worst darkness. You wrap life without root without hope. Faith. Accompanies difficult breaths.

Feast. You wear your best. Minutes are being worn as ornaments. Time embraces you. It erases memories of the past, ignoring the past. Star. It sparkles now.
Tyranny of the Colorless. Dynast. Black and white image. It doesn’t get any glance. The musts are lost. Weak wants are switched off before they light up for a moment. Human imperfection conquerors. You give up easily. You are looking for a deus ex machina. You’re wasting time. Someday you will know. To be able to.
You go out. To the world you speak. A book. Your own parade. Immortal trace.

A frigid day. To mingle. Different ports. Disorderly routes. Reflecting a gray sky. The colour is lost. Inhospitably the rain smell. It drags the steps. Slowly. Bringing. Filling with image. Without a heart. A sound. A siren. A temptation. The modern world. Flabby. Easy. The joy does not does not belong to it. It is orphan to light. Without the flame to be shared. Meant to stay in misery.
A politician that spreads lies. No one lives. Advertising. Next please. The silence dresses the weather. Like a hermit. Among many.

Time decorates a celebration. You fiddling about for hours. The sparkle to dress up. Memory conquers light.
A way to live. Confined. There are few options. You ascend to the sky of your mind. You travel where your soul desires. With one breath.