WARNING


The car that
Passes me
With it’s twisted hair driver
Is a bowl of rice

I sometimes
Don’t believe
In the pronunciation
Of retreat

It is hard to realize
That only a few
Meters away
The temperature
Changes drastically

The mounts of sand
Look more comfortable
Than a deluxe coffin

Staring hard
And drinking beer
Form an aluminum can
Is hazardous
Because your lips
Are touching
A transmitter
And your tongue
Is tasting my thoughts
Your throat will choke
With the inevitable

And you can loose
Your equilibrium
And fall through the wind
And into the earth