Labyrinthe des miracles l'âme habillée en corps sur le paillasson de la conscience sur l'ombre des lignes écrites devient un funambule en équilibre sur la fragilité des phonèmes nous faisant instantanément atteindre le nom des présences dans le récit éphémère nous disant comme vérité du dernier mot silencieux sous le récit du monde sous la peau inexistante la consistance inexistante se tord comme un arbre du silence évacué du savoir divin dont le contenu doit être évacué sauf danger de damnation éternelle dit le savoir absolu au silence rester dans les idées de chacun car si l'autre se réduit à deux dès le début c'est un maximum tout bon à toute origine

 They built the walls with the eyes of the dead. In his augusts. In their barely. The horizon awaited. That drive away the characters. Go up and down the horizon. In all the months of the eye. From a sitting of the look. When it went up, it was promise. In a warm air. A wave was coming. The folds of the trip. Daring end of last summer. We were in the delay of his journey. In his concentrate to roam. In your thoughtful time of leaving. In his visual exit time. In the colors of its light. They pushed the colors of space. To the blue of the clouds. In the distraction of the clouds. And the arrival of the sea. of the good sea Good shepherd of the sailors. Of their boats-shepherds-anchors. Sea: divine Good Shepherd. Of their wayward travellers.

 You came back from my mouth as we ran down a flat idea to our detriment on our undeniable fingers. Silent drying. Take it out for soaking. He became similar to silence, to its signs of silence, to the face of silence. Silence lyrics. Great everyday bread. Construction of silence. of its expiration. The due date of your payment in installments. Payment in installments of the stone of silence. Like the labyrinth of silence. Of all the long silences. In his drowsiness. In your morning. The mornings of silence. The well-known promises of silence.

 United nests of blood. They lose days. They take branches. volatile. Like any road. They take their flight. Dry. Corrupted night flight. To disappear To leave scars. His tattoos. Of the new day that closes. Nests close mouths. Close words. Hide sun. Falls off. In outer space, it floats. Drawn by the dark. Hidden black nests. Transparent to light.

 Get lost in the desert of time. It is easier to live without doubt. The mirrors of time. The version of his passing. His enduring immortality. We only want to catch a part. An hour. A sedated punctuality. Asleep at the mark of an hour. In the time line. According to the hours. To your best part. The absences of emptiness. I love you left floating in space. It shrinks to surround him.

 They burn. The transparencies. Your tibias. Yesterday. Away from the fire. Soon. Sea memories. Exist. Like a there. It was. It was thought. They took. They were diluted. Your arms. In sand of you were. That truth is sought. Where the past falls. For that, farewell sheet. It opens in real time. where we went Al Then. Simulated. In desperation to love.

 Hyphae. aggregated vesicles. They form monasteries. paired flagella. From the core the pores. thin secretions. Of sheets of water. Surrounding streaming fossils. Dissolving light between spores. Neither the words nor the body responded. No control of self-perception. Words poked out of their nostrils like two word-phagocytizing mice. Or of distorted phonemes. Thrown into the randomness of the air. In both ears, storms like hurricanes. That is why some lived in the ears; so as not to be phagocytosed.

 I do not know any more. No more lies. Of their violet tongues. They call null. Tongues stuck on themselves. Writhing in their knots. Drying saliva under the temperature of friction. Big Love. Your mind is read. Not herself in that impossibility. Not the usual identity. Al I have. Al we have. We forgive each other. Inside skin. There strangers. in our reading. In our Scripture of ourselves. Like ghost hunters. With tingling as a sign of life. Slow subterranean devouring insect snake.

 You know we don't know just thought. Yes we were. Why? Without knowing you leave me unconscious of myself. To not go anywhere restoration. You leave me without free will. Without rhyme or reason. No love in the guts. No tongue wood. Dumb under the shock of the fertile imagination, it ruins lives. From surprises around corners, around suspicion, in the corner of the night, to the anguish of the orange patio, to the sustained silence of the long journey, to continuous despair, and more and more, a continuum without waiting, that time folded into its own dimension, time that from time to time opens up letting some of its untranslatable pieces escape.

 What is it like step I have you. Like simultaneity. Of tears, as an image. They take to the shadows. Of the memory among others. What will we do without them? Without our shadows. Without the doubts of the shadows. Downcast shadows. Dejected screams. of hopelessness As an invention. The dimension of the heart of nights loved as sane. Orphaned sane. In the morning. From the dimension bus. Parallel lines that the city runs through. Itinerant. On the inhabited asphalt. They fall each day into the flatness of the night.

 We were trapped in our own temple of beauty. An enhanced fear. I think you've been banging yourselves into fucking reality for a while now. Waiting for putrefaction within the body of the soul, individual and collective. The exit of the steps where there is no exit. Spider tunnel. Of spider time. Sea spider wave. Its liquid air passages. Of sea nests. Of hands lost in shipwrecks. They float, they go balancing on the possibility of soaking their sinking. Shipwrecked hands floating.

 In that centered life that opens. In the gaze of being seen. In some time fall. We were uninhabited. Solar words. From the Sol Olvido bar, as the singer to whom I attribute it would say. Your forgetfulness “will not pass”, as the street banners say. Who perhaps remember us when we went hand in hand. As promised and said. For that Oblivion that no one inhabits. In that unknown somewhere. Remind me of the limits of what you say. Where the limits are heard. As part of the shadow structure. Where the music of blindness vibrates. It vibrates like the bodies of social spiders.