You may help yourself from my brain
share the same synapses the same
shell of uncertainty
my truth increasingly
acidic indigestible
if the last truth is the first
that matters is it livable
at the end of all this burst

how come the wind is blowing in this
nonsense of too-late
how come the wind is howling through this
shaky unclosed gate
when we can`t forget we will pass away
then we do forget to live for today

as rolling eyes miss flying birds
we miss suspended floating words
parentheses opened in vain
but still I know these lines remain

ashes of a poem yet unfinished
a song yet unembodied into cell
{This is a brace in the infinite
[I don`t know why we`re waiting for the spell
of an evershining sun
(when everlastingness
has already begun)]}