hearts tear borders

 but who wants to die dry?  there is only one way to die  if this is the end, if its 'nigh'  if this is the sigh of failure  apocalyps,  a dead end  there is only one way, this  sprint of madness, extasy say hystery, dripping, if you please  I would choose again and again  even say irrational, sinful outpourings of my pinneal gland and enjoy the last dance.  

 Once upon a time I was the one with desire for life in this country  impulsive, with pink blood in my veins, a refugee, breaking out of abstract, self-made boxes, or was it a cocoon?  I simply had to, wings itching with explosive colors , and I could (airdry, ground)  For you the walls are so much higher, but no less the desire  to finally be yourself and all our dreams exist  in the circle of our arms on the planet of our hug But: pandemic, forbidden! and even 'terrorism'  they strengthen my believe in this butterfly  so lighthearted, borderless, stubborn.