To scorched lands offered to dreams

 Living on snow contracted and rigid in the flutter of dreams biting the dust of feelings, feeling intrusive for having put your ears in the other's mouth. Behind the ears, the words; yours, maybe. Tireless mine endure in the spirit of the air, in its chronic forgetfulness of what, perhaps, it had understood but that it did not know, due to insufficiency, to retain. Moments lost in the long silence of words now come to occupy the place they did not have with the malevolent intention of changing the understanding of reality for the worse to spoil the experiences.

Palimpseste sur painting. Mirror Sub-Irrealism. Random intratextuality.