
The corner appears
I feel it touching the walls
but I don't see it

The corner appears
I feel it touching the walls
but I don't see it

Something has to bear
the weight you will take with you
poems over depth

In the same picture
we're standing separated
unnoble construct

A measuring eye
so I stand in front of you
looking the same way

From the color of
what I see as foundation
I look inside out

If one is a philosopher, as men have always been philosophers, one cannot see what has been and becomes-one sees only what is. But since nothing is, all that was left to the philosopher as his “world” was the imaginary.

When you do freeze time
people seem to walk backwards
especially in B&W

Through a dark facade
I see through another one
juggling as masters

I see what hangs out
of every room you air out
but I don't collect

I look at the sky
always there above the walls
can't find my new shades

I looked more than up
when my surrounding fell down
I'm Buster Keaton

Descending into
each steps uncertain landing
the thrill of looking

The dark light controls
and waits for the dawn to turn
standing proud it bows

I'm moving through streets
passing myself everywhere
the colors distract

It's closer to dawn
standing still with the Earth's whirl
the sun doesn't rise

I came across and
I remember that it meant
numbered memories