Thus spoke Love
Each time I end a relation, I dust my room. Not in search of bloody remains, but for something worthwhile suddenly you get hell of a time, and you sleep endlessly. and that's how , one day, I traveled to my pre-history. In a backyard where I made mud buns, on white earth, that turned black as I drew on it, once, I saw, yellow blue flames twist and shake, over wooden blocks, like cabre dancers. The red embers, those peep out of wooden bars, wink, and I forget the smell of loss and my worries for a grandma, burning may be, that's how, I learnt to dance over human flesh and rise to the skies for a moment or two, before stretching in your sleep. and calling it a day! Thus spoke Love