That tribal instinct sits in the denial.
Words fly in fog carrying absurd meanings...

In your painting the
silence of death was very loud...

Seasoned,
a red hibiscus...

A golden cave was afraid
Of a blue thrust...

The ink was fading.
I don't want to stay on the...

Let it be. Your face
hidden between the...

I want to shake them off,
the weird thoughts...

You own your breath,
talking to dust adrift...

An outsider
living in binary format...

You were not present.
Far from the pallid sky...

in love with vermilion
floating on optics...

A romance begins
between a tall tree and grass...