When your televisions are broken.
When you wake up in the morning
Walking around the house
What are you preparing for?

Always waiting
To cross the road
The bell to ring
To be alone?

To run away?
To get even?
To say it?
To wake up?

My illusion is not metallic.
It does not tick or breathe.
It is a dashed line.
The most splendid of weapons.

My love
For enrichment
A just cause?

My Love
For Enrichment.

Labels: artform, echo