Natural Rotations

To the Left.

To the Right.

Tall trees are breathing through scrapes of branches of concrete, 

To get inside the windows of your eyes made of glass,                        
Just leave my eyelid run in the river of clouds.                                       

                              

To the Right.

To the Left.

Those thoughts of fleshy shadows leaving your skeleton,                                
Are sailing on every spiral of blood that cut’s up the abstract veins.          

Your Smoky Neck against the Beat of my rotary City,                                       

Moans in small laughs per step inwardly, howling belly of your building.

Straight ahead…

“I’m counting Corridors”

Music : Esben and the Witch - Corridors