I'm driving again.
There's no direction.
There's no a meaning (a real word to define what I'm feeling)
Just driving (the time is near to the end)
through the wet streets of this lost city
city of pleasure (my own pleasure, like always)
and the pleasure turns into a feather
when that feather flies near to my shoulder
I feel how it approaches
my breath goes faster
shivers overcome my skin
The sour taste of a forbidden fruit
summon a spell over my senses...
Now I'm falling in to a deep abyss of solitude.
And I don't know why or how but I keep driving.
A tear slips from my cheek
Nobody realize that somewhere