IT’S MONDAY MORNING AGAIN.
The light attacks us
like the conscience at the end of a psychonaut trip.
Alarms of battles catch us
hiding
under the violins melody
that plays for us under the sheets.
We refuse to starts the day without diving.
You invite me
and
i jump into you.
Monday can wait.
April can wait.
The world can wait.
Because i need to make you wet
before everything start again.