Time, the spiral.
The pillar of fire that intervenes.
The spiral column of DNA.
The alphabetic letters enclosed.
A letter is a sound.
A stroke of time.
Time is folding up.
Like a kind of roll.
The past will fall on us.
I have seen the temporal plane bend and return to its origin.
If you don't destroy the source code we will all be reduced to ashes.
I have the code, of seven towers, virtual towers but I have not found any hacker who understood.
Nobody listens.
 It is very late.
We must act immediately.
Why don't you understand?


Close to your belly, in the confusion of the senses,
in the deep feeling of desiring belonging,
which is almost confused with the origin.
As if we really came from one another and as if we wanted to return there.
Enveloped embrace,
of sweet moods and thoughts,
but at the same time full of a full,
full and frustrating waiting at the same time.
Condemnation for the enthusiasm,
salvation for consistency.
In that womb there is all the density of the impossible that melts slowly,
together with tense thoughts that become smiles,
in the goodness of the juices that we have been sharing for some time.
You will wash me again,
and you will keep me there,
in the belly, as I will,
every time you are exiled.

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