An idea in the throat
Like a drone stuck
In a cloud of pure air
Accompanied my steps
In burning cascades
Of cocaine soaked

I was rowing like one crawls
On a sea of dead algae
The infusion of fresh mint
In my body diffused,
The sensation was laughable,
Its taste totalitarian
And my lips were drying
On this strange martyr

A stranger on my thoughts
Was shaking a bag of powder
Or was it tea?
Caught up in fiery tremors
I remained immersed
In a bottomless sea
I had already understood
That the mint was spreading
Its icy power
And its burning drug
On my thoughts