I am my twin mother
Searching for black milk
Into my children’s innocence
I’ll be waiting in 21 pieces
In a smiling plastic black bag
I’ll be waiting for the feeling

My mother is
Crawling through my insides
Through my wooden veins
I’m a twin branched tree
Seeking food on both sides
Of the rocky forest
There’s black water
Flowing through the leaves
Haunting the light
Waking the giant fluffy eyes
And there’s the freezing
Road to the numb light
Hanging in the top
Of the branches

- Detour of the blessed ignorance -

In a plastic bag
In 21 peaces
I’ll be waiting

In the smiling black plastic bag
For the drowning liquid
Of conscience
Tibet animals await me
I’m on the way to the lake

Pulling my teeth into the string
I ask a single question
Is this a beauty contest?

I see a giant truck
Every day
It’s smelly
Scorched engine oil
I like it
I’m just waiting
For the feeling


Nothing in the dream
Just the dumb light of rest
Station halt
Peacefully stupid

If the fist wouldn’t open
The fire wouldn’t walk

If the fist wouldn’t open
The fire wouldn’t walk
Again

Split the mater in my sticky
Shiny self

Hand in hand the glassy stone
Rolls over to the foot
The foot rests
And the garden grows into
A remote, a pixel and a sealing
A fall stuffed of yesterday me