“Say, wouldn’t you rather retire to a faraway nameless town and live quietly?
I’m so tired of this life. Come and take me away”
I get away, but I miss the taste of the sweet juicy peach in a dimension called consciousness, so like sand.
Where is the heat that got away? I’m starting to shiver with doubt.
Just as I was, I lazily entrusted my last blue.
The temperature which knows it can never go back, and the color of fear of a night never-ending.
Stagnated on the borderline, the naïveté of my determination
The waves hitting the seaside cliffs I’ve already forgotten won’t draw away the regret nor the color of the waves.
Left waiting, the freezing scent is concrete, in an organ called consciousness, so like sand
Where is the cold that was left waiting? Motivated by the shivering and doubts.
Just as I am, the whiteness of the white-out pen imitates my affection.
The color of fear on my naked flesh every time I rush to patch things up for the moment, and then peel it away
The faintness in the emotion of just watching from the sidelines
Looking up at the thunderstorm I’ve already forgotten, there was the color of a cloud which wouldn’t shed tears for me.
