Harlot. In the dessert of the human sea. The floating body over the ocean of the deep vibrating sound. Bringing the memories to the moments of beginning. The fingertips to numbing and velvet touch of fragnence. Burning feet and palms.. .
The sensation of eternity on the earth of water that reached the only passage in the mist of that desert. The one that led to eternal illumination. The escape.
Cracks in the land and gapes in the dryad up soil. Lizards moving in circles by four as sings of swastikas. Coloured waters and two dark passengers. Conversation in secret language. All collapsed. I had a dream. Sometimes when it is dark, cold. Or early. Or even hot with the breeze, I can hear ice breaking. Plastic.