Behind the window...

I enshrouded myself into a large song without any metric
I mumble words of intensive tattle; this is my song and then no more
No more accusing or provoking chaos smoothly sounds of joy

There are the whisperings of my remembrances in your nights
I wish to be absented of the lacerate everybody’s song
In the complete silence of your breath, of your spicy humors to compose me
A song without a word
Without any word of vacuity

A window trough my walk, walking wiry
Papyrus of my dreams, anxiety in my bones, burning
Slowly burning of ensemble voices, vanishing in a strenuous mean
Concomitant evocation of my giddiness
My song is not full of words but of sounds

Exacerbation of my head
Pleasure at my hands
At my feet
Continual nirvana of delight
Together with me just these whirling temptations
Of shock
At my feet, specially there
Where my whole relies on

Mi song is not a song but a confluence of sounds
All around! All, all around!

Comments

Anonymous said…
Il semble que vous soyez un expert dans ce domaine, vos remarques sont tres interessantes, merci.

- Daniel
December 22, 2010 at 3:25 AM
Nobody knows the other side of my house said…
Thanks for you comment. I like you like this. Happy new year.
December 31, 2010 at 6:26 PM
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