Il vaut mieux- as there was nothing.
None knocks at the door, as I don’t knock more
A horse doer, escaping from the stable
I penetrate a place then dropping from the window
Humming – hawing,
-In a far bench
I count the stumbling words, trailing the weakened tongue
Il vaut mieux- as there will be everything.
I come looking for incision to run away
The scattered papers, I let go
Trying another iron or wooden door
I’m crazy about wall’s hole
Our relation is like railway lines
We meet underneath the pressure of changing the course.