(Elmer's Room)

Part of the journey The engine's tears Flow to me Slowly At full speed Here we are And it's happening We went on living on Sunday Objects rot like fruit They end up blending into spirals into which I throw myself Your breath flows through me I feel like a broken mirror constantly reassembling its pieces And I'm touched by the help I receive Yes You can sleep there I'll sleep there too In the school I look at the window It swells We all know deep down what's going on and it unites us That's how I found myself in this slightly dilapidated but pleasant business incubator at the beginning of summer. Symbols are just psychic mud So I keep on kneading the road.