Our death is intended
unless we prove otherwise...

like a moth that was going towards the fire.
I have seen you in darkness...

Ticktock-ticktock
thus said the mockingbird of a clock...

So deep in my ears,
there is a song...

There is an end to me and you,
but not to us...

The lady was passing
so sparkling in dazzle...

In the oscillation of an accordion
we were gasping...

I dreamed of you at nights,
I sleepwalked you in the daylights...

Clocks disguise the time
in the acts of rotations...

Time is the quantized
anamnesis of such an...

Your smile,
the white queue of musical tone...

I dream of you
in jazz...