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| With the throat salved in dryness, I cram in my own body. My self leaves down its dew in crystallite nails, To ache the grass that I walk on! The strawberries are disappearing, behind them blackberries are growing Like tears learning to be sweet. on highway… traffic is crowded. Morgana lays spread down there in front of everybody like a snake in the desert shining virginally from rippling. Morgana stays spread down there Under wheels that consume their logic… Like a morphemicall sensation. At a moment in time I am Morgana crammed under ground, crammed on the ground, crammed in void, to be one forever in the asphalt too naturally leveled.
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