Surface
Tangled wires just won’t come undone
On the rooftop, the dawn chime rings out
On my way home, I can hear, finally,
The sound of a bell from the left side calling out
There’s a tiny window
With a bright red roof
A phone booth beckons me
With a wild guess,
It called out my voice
In the murky slough of ume trees,
A gentle dissonance persists.
Arms snapping with a clatter,
Don’t listen too closely to
The voice of the creature in the box.
Electrons without branches rush in,
A violated purpose-driven panic disease.
The self-defense instinct unwinds,
Gripping tight in the endless silence.
In an attempt to arrange the butterfly light,
Unaware of it at all,
A red flame of light reflects,
Igniting impulses from nowhere,
Taking hold of my bones.
Unclear sorrow remains,
Like teeth grinding on each other.
A throat snapping shut with a clink,
Towards the three-inch-high chimney—
Don’t dare to meet my eyes.
There’s a tiny window
With a bright red roof.
A phone booth beckons me,
With a wild guess,
It called out my voice.
In the murky slough of ume trees,
A gentle dissonance persists.
Arms snapping with a clatter,
Don't listen too closely to
The unclear sorrow,
Like teeth grinding on each other.
A throat snapping shut with a clink,
Towards the three-inch-high chimney—
You’ll never hear it again.
