Dead Skin






The experience is what is left behind the idea
When some time is swaying again
Allowing the possibility for some past to emerge
Allowing a discrete movement
One by one the dead cells disappear
The reality of steel has finally peeled away the membrane of dreams
What remains is undecided

Poorly orientated what is going forward
After such a long drowsiness comes the unrest of questions
Those I ask the wall that used to be in front of me
Going back into my flesh is some effort, a thankless task
When everything let think the skin was torned off for good
For real the strongest desires dismanbered
Reduced to a slight chill on the forearm





August 2015