spark on my cheeks
burning lost hearts
in a midnight of australian fortune of wasted humour

i adore sunlight as much as complete darkness

raw nuts
sharp spikes of lonely rivers
stick to my eyes to rip the vision out and throw it into railtrails of bizzare

i want to drink raw nuts
through playing pools and invisioning astral daylight

till the darkness pours pain
onto skin of lucid verse

i am a sculpture of stolen feelings
my clothes belongs to smell of cats
and in my mouth only
tears left

i want to drink raw nuts!!!

Happy thought visits my palm
I am holding a dream of stars
shining through translucent light of
blue, purple and grey neurons
in the air

pollution of wicked skin
my grey sand climbes up towards
rest of eucalipt bark

I am nail polish
in the flesh of
tomorrows dawn
In my heart vibrations
of Australian Ocean

Entrance to dream is time of my thought
In this chapter I am Universe around Pluto
My palm is the Ocean
Ocean is heart.

when the charchol sky is gettig up

wrens are dreaming

translucent water

in the wicked home

and

wings of silver stars are melting

into levitation of sun and moon

lymph tissue
chasing neurons
with hale of purple thorn

haunted mind

immaculation of nerves
evaporating in a body of wild strawberries

leafs are always fresh

dirt is covering my hair
im a wren of yesterday

thought in a bermudas triangle

now is today

Oh how dry my eyeballs are

So scarcely intrinsic in their sway

That i can opt for ice bruising them like crusts on snakes skin in summer

On the verge of pupils tenticles

They sway

One for air dirt

One for road dust

One for empty touch

One for seeing rust

Oh how dry my eyeballs are

Vicious night feeds them with fig jam

Echo boomerang thrown into them

Suffocating snowdrops on the mirror glance

Oh how dry my eyeballs are

Like a charisma cake drained in diamonds

So phenix can eat it

In its dream only

Oh how dry my eyeballs are

Whispering tunes in their pupils

Fly into abyss of screams of tongues

Tied up in the silky clouds in the sea of asking

On the verge of pupils tenticles

They sway

One for air dirt

One for road dust

One for empty touch

One for seeing rust

Oh how dry my eyeballs are

Tasting wine from the wells of honey

Cultivated in the nature of ridge and flow

Of Na wealth and the Holy Spirit

Oh how dry my eyeballs are

Youth hair in their colour

The Doors of Thunder and geometry

Senses

Bring them drops to come back to life

On the verge of pupils tenticles

They sway

One for air dirt

One for road dust

One for empty touch

One for seeing rust

 

Prints of painful path

Your footstep on the surface

Painting translucency

With the light i spark into madness

My prints on your footsteps

Im a crystal rock

Your dreams are evening mist