apes built shapes and space
to kill gods,
but they can't breathe it.
heaven is a name past sky and space,
past heaven.
there's no compass to decipher clouds.
I look at anyone,
and they speak with a dust I can't decode.
like breaking horses with silver spoons
and wild west
molotov laser waitresses.
subconscious and I will never get along.
too substantive,
we love in cunning ways.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem