Once i drew a groggy red circle ☆

thinking of the witchy woman with her awkwardly shaped lips

                    daintiness of mysticism and dust

trying to qualify duality through intertextuality

following the tightrope walk between the two antipodes

of life

seeking for solutions

while wondering how to handle a new year without fierce 

                     daintiness of mysticism and dust

remained in guilty pleasure

adamant heartbeat, wooden tears, fabric allover the witches pale skin.

then i walk home alone, trying not to touch the metallic floor

only walking on the grey funnel line

listening to various failures

enduring in acceptability ☆