not kill me. Like the road becomes a tangle of lines
strokes distracted
violent and delicate as the wind you through
even more distracted and not
you have even a moment to make it a breath
losing consciousness
have
legs reaching out toward a foothold indefinite
perhaps the place I call home
I never heard
belong to me so much
run and run
the blood that burns
and the rain wets
rain is a doodle
as the road
as entirely outside of the pure and simple
run
so that forgets self
or that's how it turns out real?
not words
perception not only a burning desire to never stop
I always remember this jump on a precipice
that if you look at the precipice
I would remind you through each day
which I consider a day wasted
not stop or stop, brother
to turn that damn noise is
air
confused scrawled
like rain as the road
in the air that the lungs
deny that sometimes there are two eyes
two eyes, if you think about it,
with all the other things that make a man
neither more nor less than we
shame that falls upon us to run
up the wall to shout "free"
up the wall to feel the chills
border between joy and fear
or
is fortunate that at least we run
open my eyes
capture some 'oxygen
we were the precipice
wind
scribbled we
undefined for an infinite time
that if the infinite exists
should be something like
at a time so I open my eyes
tachycardia
peace is not got a god to thank
Thank you for hours
the door behind me
that retraces the border
between me and that heavy rain that rain sick
everything resumed its contours
the gradient opacity
back in shape and color
dark, ok, but color
I look at my hands and I think
, swearing,
for what this city can
not kill me
this city will not kill me
