I wrap my rhythms around you,
a small delicate, selfish
circle of my own.
But after a while,
I am not longer feeling love
and its transformation has left me
a quiet death
that won’t stop looking me in the face.
It becomes obvious that tomorrow,
we would like to be eaten by the earth.
Maybe move north on top of a highway
next to an ocean that never sleeps
and neither do we but right at this moment
the cold is so solid that I could almost
crawl inside of myself
and completely destroy my composure.
Time moves slowly but the time
is moving
and I can see its body as it stretches
across the sky.
Behind us is the west:
the quiet death that becomes more
and more muffled by the sea
but it still tries to put its hands
in front of me
and it only makes the east
grow a little bit brighter
so I feed myself
to the sun.