all state of mind is an altering air
in which the only form of sanity
is advancing with feminine hands.

but the gesture does not offer relief.
the colors are plotting against it.
hidden in objects, they bear different sexes
and their going forward diminishes hope
of recovering sense.

these are facts, serenissima.
take me and move on, as if you were breathing:
the difference between an alive wreck and a stillborn
is the length of the nose.
the width doesn’t matter. nor time.

but the walls… the walls they just do.
telling us about armors warmly hidden
in chests and foreheads.
surely they’re waiting to be painted nude,
as long as this growing younger takes place.