OFLUXO

She believes I shall collapse, that the drop that pierces me while I lean against the wall is more than a random accident, that my ambiguous self being closed in my cold lap will exact the metaphysical contents on a silver tray, but if I unfold everything to the foundations, I see that I only wanted to kiss her breasts while they were swinging in front of me in her orange jumpsuit. I leant close to her, but by that time she built a stinging drop between us, I got offended and let out the chains from my arms to keep her away, so that she does not interfere with my business, that she believes I am a grownup.

I am not keeping anything except the summer, she may twist her expectations around me, I broodingly turn my back and delicately clink and clank my chains, prick up my tears instead of my ears in my rebellious idleness, and my pores take an ornate shape if I succeed in describing my plight. Anxiety  s bouncing on me in cubes, I could put it on the shelf but it is still young and escapes, I am luring it with my green eyes, maybe it will mistake my eyes for a meadow, my crown for deer horns, maybe it will find a temporary peace and dissolves in my retina where I hide my envy.

I was lamenting until I had the most of the cocks, they got erected right in front of my eyes, so that not even I can distinguish the drops of my sorrow from my lush sexuality. It is fortuitous that they fit on the shelf, that I am part of the cycle; my sadness, excluded from my brand new world, admits the person who may fill up my remaining emptiness.