Woorden: Incoming Cerebral Overdrive. Seasons.

Vibrations cross me, let tremble my immobile body,
as a relief of a stable distress.
Frozen emotions, already illusions,
are a painting?s frame
made of blood and flesh.
Magnificent sleep embraces my shape.
Disappear:
Imaginary of life, hope of stability,
touched figures, soul and body,
Tears include utopias, creeds
and known affections.
Like seasons, my rhythmic swinging
between the warm and the cold produces
natural frictions, that make me feel alive
but eternally crammed and tired
And so?
...I left what I created.