Intangible

The wind seems to be a rushed company

With a lit cigarette and an open eye,

I could look in flames

without blinking or geometrically twisting my body.

A strong edification,

a respite between two hammers

mentally programmed to flatten

morbid consciousness from time to time.

With bearable sequences,

at the limit of nerve evaporation

or a frequency that could change

totally a human DNA.

Let’s lament together,

there would be nothing antagonistic in line with modern activities,

A few heterogeneous tones,

in some places some disagreements

sounding some failed notes

and rarely a change of décor or a break,

coming after the comma of a common denominator.

But as a denouement the same chaos

A dirty vice

Washed sometimes just to get them wet

Roots.