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You have your head in your neck and your throat
crimson and sink up to your knees
into the flowers of the carpet I see you
advance your shirt steaming the help of
shyness strangled by fear to the voice
that gives birth to a litter of kittens that
meow in your mouth when you tell me
your name and if I have to start a
conversation you collapse from a floor you
burst into shivers
[Music]
to the upper lip that won't
detach from its teeth that you exhibit
when you would like to hide from me this
open-air smile that never stops drying
in good burglary I do similar
by marking you're out of saliva your
gums when I take you the Mayer to
say it's not serious that's when I
fall right into a river of drool
they no longer call me your service call
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you've gone from scarlets a word almost
blue you're at the tie in the carpet
that pleased you
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I tell you that it's a real
pleasure to know you and I tap, tap,
which melts into mine clumsily, which
I quickly withdraw and which I
delicately place on my pants. Your
voice trembles with every word you
regret. You visibly weaken, so much so that time
suddenly shakes. Water floods my eyes.
You wriggle like a leaf about to
fall dead.
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The sight is awful. Watching you makes me uncomfortable,
so I close my eyes for just a few
seconds. When I open them
again, there you are, gone,
leaving me with only my ribs. A few
witnesses told me they saw you
clipped. I think
you ended up turning into a
stream. It's at the bottom of the carpet that you went to
infiltrate, and we'll
find you, a proper researcher,
in the bulging ceiling of the tenant
downstairs
who, according to my information, will soon complain
to his landlord about enormous damage
and believe that I'm crazy, as
I would say that It's you, I'll go, it's
you
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