Burned marks and broken fingers

Some leaves in the floor, some garbage in tha walls...

Big hands, big mind... is that it my friend?

I truely won´t get a booth to hide the thoughts of the scaring sky I have... delicate skin and a secret place between the words and the bitten silences. Hot water, pages of books that smell like the drops of all those things I don´t have the courage to say. Like the smell of the bed when he´s inside.
Like the danger plays trough my legs.

burned marks and broken fingers...


when I look at that face I know what is going to happen... Deep inside, I know. "I hope you are not tired", I hear. And a beautiful black labyrinth opens like an ocean in a stormy day.

I have a boat and one oar. and my arms, pieces of moth-eaten wood.

Deep inside, I knnow.

burned marks and broken fingers.