You grow older. You become an objector of time. The incompatible beauty fools the numbers.
You grow older. You become an objector of time. The incompatible beauty fools the numbers.
You discover again and again. You escape when you can. Uneven race. The best life expense.
Disposition. Lust. Fills a soul treasury. Clear. Value adds. Precious shines every moment.

You have lived.The messages. They whirled you in the four winds. And them. Stuck there. In the lap. In passion. A unit of measurement. It devides the lovers. The kisses that unnecessarily were taken in a another mouth. The moment. You meet complicit eyes that cumber on yours. Without sound. Only the shortness deceived by thirst.

Hidden enthusiasm. A guide. Circulates the blood in the arteries. The body remembers. It flares life. Revolutionized spring. Destination of the memory. Brightens. Everyday life painfully scraping your hopes. A hermit. Within the world. You write. You dream.
Silence masks the image of absence. Time is stacked. Insignificant without her.
You look over the stage. Yourself. Going out on the streets every day. Servant of everyday life. With the hustle of a deacon. You participate in the ritual. Your thoughts sin first. They project the image that you have not lived. Not yet.
The tug of war is yours. You hold the two ends of the rope. You pray.
To sug on the correct side.
You dress like a walkon. You ask for peace away from the world. Protagonist for a unique spectator. She.
It smells fresh the hour. Every time. New Year’s Eve. Loaded dreams. Embrace wishes. Human genuine.
It gives moments. You count. Gifts that shine in your own time. The last dot. You look back. A libation on your altar. You give birth to memory.