Where you never end. Lost and you only add me to our us. Open and love. In wanting repairing. Where your divine hands put the dawn. No tangles or hidden mazes. Hands of dawn that dawn. They wake up cleaning dreams. Smoothing the sheets. Clearing the storms of dreams. He gently asks you, as in the haze of dreams, if you want to dawn. They tempt you with the smile of promises. They threaten you with suffering from pain by presenting you with anguish. Nerd. Yes Yes. Please no. Give me the hand of yes, yes. Please no. Open the eyelid doors. Look, concealing, gently, the room and its walls. There appear to be no threats. You test the slow movements of the body. It magically works. The witches of the night have not taken it. You check the corrupted breath. It is neither for the nose nor for kisses. Reason, the last one, to get up tripping over furniture and walls. The crusts that had formed during the night fall, in the swaying.