When there is no more to tell ourselves
the smoke talks, the smoke swims
and rows in a spiral.
When there is no more to tell ourselves
holes empty into the air
that two cannot breathe.
To vanish
stretching the afterward
endless trajectory.
Distant pleasure
of one glance facing another
fading...
When there is no more to tell ourselves
I become one with the smoke
twisting reason.
Of all that is decided
time stretches and I forget
I forget, like you
And in the sphere we wander
indifferent
to the space I left...
To vanish
stretching the afterward
an endless history.
Distant pleasure
of one glance facing another
fading...