MEDIUM

The light that is going through the monitors. Is a thunderbolt on the sunset that crosses in the middle of the electric forest of the cities. In the future, on the prognostic that I'm an adventure to elucidate in which our shadows have died, there is the medium that transports us. An electrified tree up to the sun. It will be that light that reflects the gravitational corpse, out of sense. We will be that broken pieces expanded straight to the nothingness. There will be no order, it will be the same as the beginning of the times, it will reign the chaos. A charming distortion, a spasmodic buzz. It will be an echo of palpitations or reverberated dreams in crystal bottles shinning and becoming. That specter that conduct us without the learned, without the sense superimposed that we place to things. Exempt from reason, the time will blow beyond all corpse been. Out of signs or Via Crucis. We will be a gaseous cloud, of radiant explosions, an unknown cumulus. We will be unrecognizable. Beauty unbreathable transformations. Beauty transports by getting rid into the continuous fire discontinuous. Eclipse stars.

Medium is what I would want from reality to be. A monitor in which I immerse my hand and I could touch what it isn't existing. what it is not, and it will not be. So much strongness of destiny for this walking and talking dumpsters. So much time for this secretions smell of the streets. The miracle of existence and materialize for this middle bloodless road, for this stupid happiness?