side of the mind

It's the dark side of my mind
where one cannot see even a spark
there's no light, nor glittering


all that can be heard is a queer noise
but through these sounds of whining
I feel like sacred, I feel desired.

massacre

I am turning back
I am washing my hands again
I am in love with a beauty

He believes in a music
He likes the fragile sounds
He is a master with telephone

We don't use words
They can only do harm
We see our voices

it almost feels like flying