A supposed antithesis and later a crazy theory

There are no waves
something is broken
and she said: “later”
inside my scared faces.

Your name was here,
I’ve sown it.
I’ve told you it.
But the door wasn’t opened.

Maybe feathers are falling.
This moment
was ripped on hell
but the life with
new horizons isn’t here.

I have no victory
and maybe now
feathers will fall on my seasons.

For as long as I remember
as things unspoken
and raining graves
stain when you touch them,
You were kissing him lips.

But clocks moving forward
and awkward have no memory.

She said: “I’ll back later”
She told me: “Don’t be a bad boy”

Any color I see looks perforated.
I tossed again and again.

With the stereo sound of this;
with nothing left to say;
with no mouth to say it;
We are so fragile, don’t we?

There are no waves
something is broken
and she said: “later”
inside my scared faces.

Am I such a supposed?
Am I A Theory?
Or am I an Antithesis?