You will put me in a jail
and I will send shiver in concrete walls with my reluctance.

You will throw me into the swamp of a night
and I will crawl through the wilderness with my muscles.

You will shift the frame towards the tainted empty forest
and I will create an animal of smoke for the taste of your flesh.

You will burn the jukeboxes in a dire morning
and I am gonna wound toys from a pick to make you get music before the light leaves the town.

You will end up making a lot, making a god,
making a trampoline
and I will still be around from the style of my absence.

…………………………………………………………….

Photograph: Jitka Hanzlova.