10/12/2013

If my hands weren't there, like I saw in the stream of the drawings been made on a full colour screen, if they weren't to be found, then what else...could I be?

If your hands weren't there, like I saw in my dreams and the poets we made, had all gone, disappeared, then what else, then what else...could I be?

If your hands & my hands strolled together around if they were to make friends we'd be possibly up to escape from this world, from this no past land.

If I looked in the windows while walking pass through if I stared at the willows with my seven black truths if my eyes were to see what belongs to your mind...

If you'd like, keep perceiving what lies on my back and your eyes will shine through the glass of my wine and the windows, the willows, the pillows, and your mouth.

If your hands & my hands strolled together around if they were to make friends we'd be possibly up...