Somethingelse about defence
between our bodies is too much weather
and a diluted trace of earthy scents and
liquorice at dusk
for the rain to end our days with a task of taste
to veil the road where fairies hide
when morning breaks
it takes him no longer but a broken minute
passing the scents of tomorrow's stories
searching his pockets patching his past with a
borrowed drunkenness from the ocean
salt meets my shore
and I encounter his weakness defenceless
to the effect of time and cause of change
where the soil is still warm when day comes
to closure
only resting in my hand
sensing near is coming closer for every lonesome
sailor lost at see of unknown water seeking
land in his reflection
barefoot crossing border
with my heart as only weapon
