thresholds tremble like rubber bands,
prisms do handstands in space,
puns switch alliances,
crazes lose face,
clouds can't stop changing their minds.
the sun dissolves like a berocca,
night chews on its dark nails backstage,
change rounds up and down like an unkeeled boat,
the next wave is fed by the last's broken yolk.
my wounds are all fading like memories,
my memories bleed like fresh wounds,
but your face, as bright as a star-mart,
is never closed,
is always open.