The see-thru passage has never looked like a collage as it seems today
just when my feet go one step after the other
there's hunger for swerving off the tiles
each little corner, a fragment of oneself
each single line, bloodstream in search of a bosom
tree shadows of no windproof
slapping on my face the truth
- yet hidden thoughts -
manic desires being devoured by a single soul
these corridors never looked like portraits of my concrete fears but today
as my hands search for some warmth in my pockets
the lush fields of my skin
thrive for what's beneath
a thousand senses
dankness inside spread, no sun to endeavor neatness
nevertheless a palpable drifting grain thrusts against the wall
has it been detached from the core?
has it become part of an investigation?
it just asks for the freedom to pass
break shell
through sheer persistence.
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