GOOD NIGHT, MY DARLING. I HOPE THERE IS NO ENDLESS RAIN IN MY DREAM

The word “thinking” always implicated falling, losing, flowing, and forgetting. I have no courage to look at the mien in my eyes, to seek those times of launching the blades of grass upwards with my blurry sight, or to seek those muddled and tepid things. I don’t know when it was that I began to look into the mirror with dolorous sight? I don’t know when it was that falling has been continuing, and further and further away from the ground. It gets colder and colder. I snuggle up to my sweetheart and think that the reason why we live is because we can bring warmth to others. Therefore, we keep on snuggling up to each other, like two tired squabs with quiet and deep-sleeping eyes which are memorized in each other’s gaze, we’re interlaced discursively. The dolorous and tepid blood is flowing through our bodies.