Waste is forgotten while the night trembles in a restless bed of wet sheets and the kisses smile in their last breath

 While the night shakes in a restless bed of wet sheets, the kisses smile in their last breath. Meanwhile, restless. Clean hands. White hands. Floating streets. In the hint of the poor to hunger. His hands float with hunger. Minceur des lèvres. They dream they dream of the emptiness of the stomach pouch. It twists. It spirals (spines) with the tube of the long intestines raising the dome of inner flesh to the roof of the skull. Feel the deception of eating, its fragility, quasi fiction. Quasi reality that is soon forgotten, volatilizes, becomes oblivion of waste.

Sense, then ex-isto as hypo/thesis.