Blue poetry

I have this need. Urgent. Immediat. Schematic. That eats me inside with all her power of destruction. A raw and bitter act of personality lifts me up. A prison where trees, brick houses, a lonely guy on a bus station, sea and waves, mushrooms and low tide interact constantly, not alowing me to burst. A stream of pieces of poetry impossible to write about.

Finding myself on my own, I try to get away. Two closed windows, a pair of shorts and a skateboard. Even though they speak, I cannot listen to what they say. My eyes and my body are responding physically. I´m inhuman in a human body.

The usual sad song at a Church. I listen close by.

And once again I fold HD´s soul

And a kitchen canister is found dead in her appartment