as we sit down on yellow blue leafs
you look into the corner of my eyes
with your doctors face looking on an healing pacient
the drugs did their part we think
the sound of conserved music out of electric boxes made with hungry hands
is intrrrupting the vibe of us
the two high classed, still, people who enjoy their freedom of leeting others do the shit
we shall be one day the planners, organizers healers, psychotherapists who treat their self to treat the masses...
But we plann to do nothing, what will society become of would our parents ask, if they had not been on vacation for 2 or 3 weeks?
The chatting in the garden of yours about food, erotic problems, psychopartners and their unwanted return makes me feel so sweet, tied down with my llok on your breasts, or on the "rude"hole on your pants under your vagina, or the stare of your eyes into mine wich leaves me stuttering while i cannot decide wether to talk or to keep looking, the feeling of a fly in a spiders net wont be much different. After all, they say, love is cannibalistic.