From the Obsidian Room — an immersive piece where words dissolve into moving light.
All that draws us grows from what we cannot see. 'Truffles, perhaps, this way' — two who met in the midst of a forking path. A cinematic poem of an autumn forest where everything came in a rush.
Down a long, long corridor, a voice and murmuring talk drift from beyond; a presence felt, yet no one to be seen — a cinematic poem adrift on an abandoned line.
In the gloom of a heavy morning sun where nothing can be seen, this is a special place unseen by all. A transparent existence about to vanish, unnoticed — a cinematic poem dissolving into a whitening dawn.
Under a roof where bones show through, alone with you. A drop seeps from the stagnant black sky into the crown of my head — an unchanging smile, a sorrowful face. A cinematic poem of black rain falling into the abyss.
Beyond the opened door lies a world of words; the words that spread there become your very shape. You need not be bound by the face you were born with — a cinematic poem bound into a picture scroll.
The words that called me beautiful were, in truth, a lie. You saw me as a brooch, a hair ornament, a pass or an indulgence — no, like a milk bottle left at the door. A cinematic poem laid over crimson roses.
A cute scribble brimming with love; I want to keep gazing at those letters. Filling my hat with your words, little by little I too want to give my words back in a loving form. A cinematic poem inscribed on a scroll.
If I could choose just one — heaven sprawled on soft grass, or the figure standing straight with an axe in hand. Both are me, and to choose is to never return. A cinematic poem of the conflict upon the lawn.
A face unlike the usual. You who read my words to the end and answer before I finish. Even the words I turned over all night are cancelled out when we meet — you're like a black hole. A cinematic poem swallowed by the cosmos.