Into each others eyes, we listen to each other breathe. br The modern society: when the cell phone rings it is br br mingled mournfully, and abortion is looked at like a cave drawing. br A lack for words, that i cannot look into the mirror, without br br thinking of the world that revolves around it. Is it condensed br into dewdrops, or are we just an angel's raiment ripped off br br to reveal wings. But the lightning flashes inside the hourglass br are getting shorter. Where is that sand from anyway? br br I guess i am tired of parachuting onto the soul of eight-thousand br spears. They do not cause me enough damage to remind me br br of America. It would be more like these sleeves of mine, that br cause me much more rage. Being guzzled out of the past by br br those who died at Pearl harbor. Those of the Nirvana, as both br of us will turn to ashes. Or maybe being injected into the br br orphaned child of 911. Searching for its mother beneath the br covers of my periphery. Where pile on pile of tears is where br br i wish i could drill to buy firewood, before another passenger br spends the whole soul hopelessly gazing. Before i have br br abandoned the world that has never had a flow; Let alone br what sign is this so much years later. What praying appeared br br in my dream and is as helpless as this? What leaves no trace br behind while never tire of looking. Maybe i have been dreaming br br about the falling petals of candlelight. Maybe the prologue to br counting the stars is really an ellegy. A silence that breaks loose. br br I guess i just do not know what is reflected upon the mirror of my soul, br could be lined with dreams, could be the pitiful ears from my own mind. br br It might just be piling ourselves onto the lily paddies of time, br and we all start dancing. We all start sinning, just for fun, out on the graves.