On October 28, 2013
You can boil my blood with the mind,
but it can't bring me down,
no, I enjoy the ice just as well you do
so brush away those splinters,
I know, they were the tears before.
When I switch where the bluey is,
Switch into my airy sky,
I leave the colors of the earth
and all the stale drolls of the dearth behind.
I become sheer and cold, a raw Arctic soul,
a current left without a strive,
and I can recognise frost in their hearths
and the timid contempt for the azured kite;
they are both
dead like an iced crisp of the night.
If I don't get numb here in the flight,
I may even care to grab you up,
but, I enjoy a flee light and playful alone
so make me a mark with your eyes,
I'll see it, and that will be a thing to adore.
