I don't sleep while I think about how I slept.
(The subconscious announces the metamorphosis)
Your wild claws stain our skin
And I return restlessly.
I face a static body...
Only fingers move
Without knowing why.
I watch the world and the things
In an almost perfect disguise.
I'm a spy and a book of memories read in blood.
Though I never had it with me,
The increasing understanding is discontinuous.
Unveiling an intriguing appeal,
I almost burst my lungs
In the abrupt inhale into the real.
What remains isn't enough
And I can't reach conclusions.
I find the senses' vices
Fucking indisposing me
Terribly
