The planet can't carry dense words.
He's looking away.
Closes his eyelids.
All dreams must be
Hide deep,
in corners –
wild, dirty, my own spaces of life.
Little box,
Which you're trying to push me into.
There's besides much of me in it.
Too much alive, pulsating.
Tight.
Dark.
Cold.
I'm coming out.
Like blood,
who decided not to die.
