Passage No. 22

caught in the tunnel of smoke,
where every breath makes the edges longer and wider,
and the drowsiness of the altered mind kills you...

always, the danger of falling exists
and the strand of the 200-miles-per-hour blood-flow never breaks.
intense fear and blindness seem meaningles,
yet drive you insane.

just a cloudy image at first,
but in the end, a black figure revealed,
retaining all kinds of gravitiy
like a sealed plastic bag.
(feel the moisture from the outside
bring you to a higher level and laugh at you.)

zero romance, zero conspiracy,
just the lunacy currupted in a needle
rapidly penetrating
and a bit too far to make it back.

poem:
I just want to stand in the ledge with you,
feel a little life in my veins before I die.
Flourish all my body with your heat,
and penetrate my senses with your eyes.
Just take away my mind and all above,
when you touch me with your fingers
and scratch me with your nails.
Like a wind-blowing pain, pushing the sail
of this world of true vision,
where ambition is a tale.

now,
the moon must take over.

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