They didn’t even wait for the the sunset to flow over her body…

They fingered her hairs, they played with the fire of her body…

They jerked black and put patches inside her eyes… 

The eyes, dreamed and swinged with escape velocity, 

the eyes brought oranges and purple afternoons. 

The perfume of esoteric physicality is still lingering in the air, 

howling among the alleyes and chaos. 

With twisted eruption they curved the parallel lines…

A void, a snowy mountain of shame, a parade of hanging nights. 

I say let the air scream through the flowered skirts again and dance through the alcohols and morning woods and slouching corrupted cities again, 

dance through the motherfuckers again.

A music of forgotten desolations and a music of whiskey on the rocks…

The fluorescent flight.