Intense pleasure

Feel the moisture, a lost word, a sense failing; sending forms and being formless, searching essence and finding flavour.
The room cries out, the stairs are long, the walls keep screaming to him, the wind his caressing its windows without curtains, flesh is everywhere, powder at the door.
Where’s the entrance?!! Says the door to the hall
Nearly forgetting a smile and/or forging a landscape: a canvas, something to visualize, to exist, to be.
A line; a word, a phrase, remaining empty and full, searching its flame, its existence, its life, its purpose, while looking at the white and painting it blank.
The flames are engulfing the atmosphere; flames exist where trash used to be.
Forming its sounds, stone to stone, hand in hand, whispers meddling in its huge ears, while forms are entering in its mouth, being there; existing and not, building a cage that builds another one and so on.
It tries to give names to forms, to sense them, to picture colours, while its mind it’s still in black and white.
Sand with water, trees with clean paper, used wood and leaves, the branches forming closets, who escape and run faster and faster towards the garbage can.
The values are meaningless, there is a hidden meaning somewhere, which cures everything, but its purpose isn’t that or can’t be it.
Being asleep and always awake, being there without existing or exiting, forming a time and a space, a huge canvas waiting to be spread with electrical circuitry or other forms of pleasure, the sound of no sound, viewing what isn’t showing, falling to and towards, descending, ascending.
Endless life or short life, it’s the same the memories bring back its immortality, either spreading around or circling everything.
Being vertical and pointless, devastated and full of life or devastated and no traces to live on, bricks and cement, tools everywhere.
Living on cages, in spiral paths, that’s the infinite, there’s the maths within a structure, the science within, life throughout.
Past, present and future everywhere, a small box full or empty, always full and always empty.
A body with ideas, a canvas to spoil or just a lost dream?!
Legs; arms and thoughts everywhere; caressing or destroying it, leaving and entering, giving everything, demanding nothing.
Water all over, where’s fire there’s water,  where’s smoke, there’s powder, where’s powder; there’s essence.
Living in it, through it, towards it, feeding it, dreaming it, enjoying, crying, lots of sentiments in there. 

 Eat or be eaten that’s its promise, while holes beg for more and there isn’t none there to gave them.