can I touch you?

I bled from the Charms

and fell into the wounds

that your patience

to seduce



I am a bleeding corpse

searching for


thus medicine is foul

when pain

is flourishing.


Flowers are hard to tear

for the roots are deep

into the earth I feed

but were banned

form colouring

the world.


Catches my attention every time

how birds


no matter

the seasons

that rule over the nature

that you hold.


No one told me

that hands are made of magic,

and when you reach for


magic happens.


But the magic

does have its consequences

over the blood

of the Sacred

that have sworn

to protect


as their religion.


They come as outsiders

of the comfort

of being

too lucid

to be happy.


And as you lay with me

I feel this warm sensation

of feeling something

knocking from under

the grounds

in which we sealed our bodies

to the revelation

that we were meant

to be in the moment,


of now.


Let’s wake together in to the

beautiful reality

that your charms made me bleed

but your hands healed me


so Now?


how can I touch you?

while talking




painting by Paul Gauguin


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