Change of virtue is a sparrow's chirp
Stretching its nuances of equally the same seasons
To the skies
To the clouds

Nuances are clear
Flower nectar

Change of virtues is another dream.

I can't lift up my eyelids because time is heavy
On my eyelids eyelashes stand vertically
Ingrowing
Like poles in Pollock's painting
Cutting through my eyeballs
Sucking the last nerve out

I can't see the rain any more
Reality is fictional
Chaos mingles on my palms
And craves water
Which is supposed to wash my face

I'm half sad
Half mad

I wash my eyeballs which are dry now
Turn my 10 fingers through

Through red pupils
Hoping crave is insignificant act

My eyes are dry now
My eyes are dry now
My eyes are dry now...

Spare tear fell of a wine barrel
Slow in motion
Heavy in caution

Reminiscent ring of dust in clouds

Aeroplanes and crickets dancing in the garden
Sunset is too heavy

Vineyard leaf smiling on the porch
Silently dragging itself away
To the sunset
To the dust

Butterfly flight is eternity of sadness
Flying towards death it collects fierceness
Bowing to the pestle it feeds on nectar
Meeting daylight learning wickedness

Always leading us to the ephemeral so far.