Not seek shelter in the river. Of other cities, other worlds. Your diamonds shine in my mouth. It is all about the depth, I dig deeper into the depth of everything. My one pen is red and the other is black. It was before the diamonds, even before the movement of my fingers through shadows, through hair, through town plan after town plan. Do not seek shelter in the river of another language, but learn it. The words, small tops of foam. The water and everything that grows so strangely out of the blue.
My sentences are crowded and lack the precise movements of days.
I sat and listened to the blue, blue sky, the laundry and the pigeons, seagulls, swallows (were they really swallows?).
My body wobbles.
Not forget the rivers in the ears. The fog in the forests in the view.
In the sunlight we quiver like something resembling a precious stone resembling a glittering from the depths of the earth.
In the lips and in the skin. The northern lights quivering in your voice. Glass hands. Can I write that? I tell you this, because I was lost in that desert for a longer period of time. Under the blue, blue sky. My body wobbles.
I was in your body, and you?
On a big piece of white paper. A nice fruit hangs there, dangling. You wrote a sentence on my skin to help me see through your eyes. But my language was not hostile. I drank short gulps of the tea, ate dry crispbread, butter and sesame seeds. Two shirts hung up to dry in the room, one is crumpled, the other refuses to be straightened out. Sometimes a couple in love will come across each other and shrug their shoulders at the mind of the sun.
Parts of your codes tore kisses from a closed system. The mad sky. The shyness in writing. I found a line somewhere under my bookcase. Notes. Descriptions. The sentences are an ocean. We thought about words we could not forget.
Everything can shift shape, can change, can transform. The cloud hid something from the birds. And we awoke. When I woke up, I was certain: From the smallest details we find, every morning – in the shining light that is bright – our way into the most important scientific truths.
I tell you this, because I was lost in that desert for a longer period of time. Nothing should be forgotten. Sometimes a couple in love will come across each other and shrug their shoulders at the mind of the sun. I no longer have room for the fine hairs on my skin. It was before you could disappear. Now my dreams drift into a gentler, better time.
The book I was reading slowly slipped further away in my thoughts. Here the day is already far ahead of me.
I sailed between your lips and kissed the meteorites glittering down through the atmosphere. By the outermost shores we found a small, green stone.
Around hesitant stars we came up with names for things. It is about. Parts of your dreams fell out between your lips. When you touch me, when our bodies are quite close, we are part of each other. When I think of that place, I think it is beyond everything.
I tell you this, because I was lost in that desert for a longer period of time. Sometimes a couple in love will come across each other and shrug their shoulders at the mind of the sun.
We thought of old fossils, raw thoughts of silence. You wrote a sentence on my skin to help me see through your eyes. I was in your body, and you? Out in the light of the LED night I found a pile of sticks (lol). Notes. Descriptions.
As I lay there and listened, I became afraid of losing you. This is how my nights sailed. Wind, drag me with you across the plains, drag me all the way down to the cliffs.
In my first App, I awoke and placed a light in your smile. There was something that opened up. We thought of old fossils, raw thoughts of silence. The indecision of the sentence: The blue flashes of the emergency lights no longer worried me.
At the time you were still a part of the slow, black beings of the mountains against the desperately fragile silence of the night. Everything behind everything. For every layer of meaning in the stones. Stuff like that. I wrote nothing down in that period.
The forest turns into clearing and water. Of other cities, other worlds. Through the hole in my brain.