Configuration of life styles

I run
I run with the sounds
and my waves crash with
things that I've never seen
Where I have to go tonigh?

When she stands asleep
and the thousand desertic skies
float above my biochemical
hands, Only then I am alive.

When I am asleep inside here
My lungs breath a name that
I cannot modulate
is this a new thin flow of air?

My pen calls me, to write about
anarchic questions
But my hands was stolen
by birds that I never knew

And god, when she stands asleep
my bitter voice whisper through my eyes:
"I see universes spitting flowers,
in my life I've seen something like this"