The unfinished curves and lines
Crane their necks ,
Overlooking perspectives distorted ,
Making a strange obsession ;
of the night sky .
Parading halos so farce around our heads ,
They disguise themselves under your naked stare .
The tightly locked music ,
Echoed only in these labyrinth .
The tops of the simplest answers ,
Found buried under displaced patterns .
Traces of the original ,
Marked by golden hands ,
Giving away gifts so frivolous ,
Punctured by motives of many .
So bored are their eyes ,
Whilst climbing into a shell ,
Precariously sliding into infinity ,
Merging into a world ,
Of suspended dimension and imagery .