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...words measure distances between our hidden...and invent perspectives...and evoke a passionate quest for finding out the truths...yet they live behind ANOTHER...A NOT HER...AN OTHER.

My face sheltering between my hands

i dream of running through a forest

my clothes shed gently

like the tears trying to undress the eyes

stroked by branches

layer after layer i give in

my feet get black as i gently wake up worms

i stomp and soften through my fear

my skin

u n fo ld in g

i run and jump until my tissues turn inside out

i hug a tree and feel it for the first time.