A Resurrection

  Blood circulating amidst kisses and embraces,

the cries are no longer the skin is moist.

The world seems to disappear into the infinite of the

magination of the crazy man on eighth street.

 

  Dark alley ways, the moist dirt, the smell of

your skin. Many dead feelings, twisted sadness

finally resurrected in a filter of beauty. Drop by

drop, we gain euphoric hopes.

 

   A resurrection in the temporary veins in the

monotonous programming of life. We refuse the

wind with simply closing our eyes.

 

  The world has been violent, peaceful, the world

has seen us, ignores us. Within us falls the

strictness’ of punishments and depressions,

we refuse the resurrection.

-Josejo