Staying under water. I had grown that natural attachment. Any time in the surface. I naturally made my way underneath. It felt better to my skin.

Poetry is madness A ritual I do, but do not know. A night that conquers, Drunks me to helplessness. And it kills shame, Guilt. It hits you like an exploding racket. It shoots out you naked.

And in the fog of stillness: «Do you realize how we are all chasing something in here?» Bees and their somnambulism, Chasing flowers Over and over So many times.

Breeze of cold. A song titled hope. Gulp of and urgent need for a cigarette. Need to sniff more of heavy ylang ylang. The itch of a pain. A warm wind. The soul lifting song. Whiff of ceder smoke. My soul soothed by patchouli. A healing touch. Amethyste & Jim Musics