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■ The oak
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Like a deep skin cut,
it opens, stretches all your body sketches in a pain of sin, but it shows you´re really alive. Your living flood runs in a tide of blood as you fuse with a steely knife. I feel a deep cut in my skin every time I see this Fireball surrender to the dark… in a fall… such a fall of lust, waking up sin. Its golden glamour turns to a red of war and suddenly its aggressive roar turns to a saddened grey dark colour. And my tissues are cut… One by one… and my flood… it pumps out, but My life is shown in a mix of sin and light. Written on March the 13th and the 20th, 1990, in Panama City, Panama
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