I knock on the table
like a spiritist
earth devouring her children
insatiably
I knock on the table
like a spiritist
Wonderland without Alice
the world drops
space age gods
drop
in our eyes
gazing at the infinite
gazing at time itself
gazing at you, lit up by candles
that are light from other galaxies
whispering goodbye to your sepia head
You´re an artwork, by oil
fishes in a fishbowl with anemones
treebranches reaching out
to porcelain fingers
meditating on our bones only
bone white mind
a gravechamber in our foreheads
Gulliver and I´m Liliput
fingers sprawled across timelapse
doomed.