Beings
the outline of the silhouette suggests a torso
but a torso is not a man
the concentric circle emerges from the surface of the lake
and the insect revolves in the center
if the air had consistency
there would be a slit along the wing of any being
also neural tissue vibrates
if tensioned and results in sensation
the cover of everything is defragmented
to generate what it cannot manage
the numbers spread over the shapes
guiding their conformation
the sound obeys this law
and behaves like a gelatinous and feverish wave
the suspended state of the muscles
dams the eruption of tears
every mouth that wants to smile
turns off the brain that wanted to cry
time restructures and falsely rises
because it doesn't exist
death comes in cycles
and infinitely accumulates its victories
the man lies down and sleeps
dreams invade the dark parcels of any understanding
the most practical thing is forget about this linearity
get used to vaporous columns of lost thoughts
silent dive and swallow the lake insect ceasing its agony
time to get out of the water and grow wings
start anew the ventures that prevent starvation
it is with this formless material
that we mold to heal wounded concepts
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