It is time for us to join the line of your madmen
all chained together. Time to be totally free, and estranged. Time to give up our souls, to set fire to structures and run out in the street.
Time to ferment. How else can we leave the world-vat and go to the lip? We must die to become true human beings.
We must turn completely upside down
like a comb in the top of a beautiful woman’s hair.
Spread your wings as a tree lifts in the orchard. A seed scattered on the road, a stone melting to wax, candle becoming moth. On the chessboard the king is blessed again with his queen.
With our faces so close to the love mirror, we must not breathe, but rather change to a cleared place where the building was
and feel the treasure hiding in us.
With no beginning or end, we live in lovers as a story they know.
If you will be the key, we will be tumblers in the lock.