A bird appears as a rhythmic cry after sunset she feels this message slow like a kiss

repeating memory of what was his soft lips of youth burning in a rhythm of passion

an alien species a mystic union of unknown consequences

feeling uprooted in a world of exchange she had to survive as a nomad in the soft touch of rain by the sea

burning eyelids connecting synapses of a mystery translated to a glass of red

Nothing ever was real but his voice as it was progressively breaking along the internet…

by. anna christ

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s