Flavored with wild garlic
Tournemire key
snapped the shade of the undergrowth.      
 
Immeasurable in its blade of scratches
the prey frayed
in front of the ready-to-wear of seduction.     
 
For the wind to blow straight
as sweet things withdraw
quick wrinkles on withered face is required.      
 
Fold back worn nails
at the thrill of the word
enriches our view.      
 
Little to say
in a delicate position
in front of the breach of the Invisible.      
 
They complain of procrastinating
finger on the trigger
the wavering promises
when cracks give way to tears
and that when stopped
biting his lips bloody and screaming
they throw the ridiculous right
while on the left rises the new world
of its inner counterpart. 
 
 
865