sexta-feira, 12 de setembro de 2014

What is scratched into the letterbox

One residence at work
The hand is never idle
The surface of the letterbox is clear and clean
That is where I take the knife and scratch my dreams

The road is pizza
We are the table all presenting moving with the eaters
Long streets around cloudy lost afternoons
god whispers expiry dates

Our arrival point is hiding behind seriousness
Shortcuts are fuzzy little animals giggling
They say life is target practice
Though it is the knife cutting into wood

They say life is a journey
though it is the carving out of a message
They say life is a sign
but it's the reading of the message

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