turn off your voice if it scratches and rumbles.
Like relatives around a body they hardly pray to a body already grave.
You must enter me with light hands, leave your weight outside the door.
Strip your ego of arms and barriers:
what you wear does not matter to me.
You have to tiptoe into me.
This tower of mine is mere illusion. If you really care, stop and sit down ..
we follow the flowing river in silence.
collapse, not soft you ignore, you do not speak you touch, you crash lose, leave again distracted looks heavy hands the important things they don't make us great the buried memories the many dangers loose hair far you take me your head bursts yell alone no one stays here burn the flowerbed you the sun hates continue lady ruin the party your courage honors you returns assassin becomes queen he pointed a thorn at you in the blood morphine who loves you stays for what you still are whoever loves you becomes realm who loves you becomes a home
THE PRODIGY OF IDEAS 