There’s only the two of us and time here,
maybe others, as well,
filling us with indifference;
our life’s full of stories,
as our blood
trembling in the heart’s rooms.
Butterflies and birds make the game at the window,
from the infinity drunken eyes.

I execute, exactly
as a soldier,
each order given
by the highest courts of the universe,
that I can not break from.

Apparently, we were freely living
within these walls,
where gates rarely open,
I can touch your hands stretched towards me
whenever I live love,
I embrace it,
I melt it in a container made of the same clay
that I drink from.