Poetry·Ukiyo-e artist

If you move ninety-three times, you will become an ukiyo-e artist. Destiny makes all living beings lie down and drift together——
Lying flat, reclining, prone, spreading or curling up the limbs.
When you're bored, you summon ripples with your fingertips.
Then there is more boredom waiting to be discerned, and the hand cannot rest.

  Snow puts makeup on me, leaves dress me,
The light makes me want to transform into a magical girl.
How would you describe me? Welcome to draw.

Put down the pen and raise your arms in the posture of the person on the paper.
Touch it out, touch the inside of the eyelids, penetrate the skin and pinch the bones.
Last night you dreamed that the fire broke out again, burning the bed, table and table.
Let's go and see the fire. They come. You put out the fire,
They still come, holding hands and surrounding you, watching.
You are already on fire in the city.

Wipe away makeup and makeup with a towel to avoid revealing your dull face.
The charming eyes are like silk, hoping to hide the masculinity.
The one who looks up to you with all his features? Oh, I don't want to.

How can the lines with the same trend continue on their usual trajectory after being held in shackles for fifty days? And the future has arrived, my jumping heart,
There is still play, laughter, oaths or parody, and birds flocking in groups.
Silverfish have chewed up the songs of the past, and spending the rest of your life repairing them is also an option. Those images and fingers deny each other,
What might it be that you thought you had grasped?

You may see high walls and fences, or you may see shirt patterns and hair buns.
Are the slanted eyes worried or happy? Cherry mouth.
You have not painted me, you cannot.