How annoying, how disturbing
living in this urban turning
day to day – and today!
How pressing, depressing
is it to live – captive
How soothing is the thought
ceasing to exist – I sought
the exit of 6 times foot.
A world has shattered and I bear its shards;
they are so painfully aching –
though I see no else cure than my lost crystal
that without, there’s no reason
whether I’m waking or sleeping.
What a terrible cavemen we’ve become;
cracking a day to another
in the dark where only wrong ideas come –
but shadows make no mother, nor father.
Just before I could be normal,
I slipped badly even lower –
a pathetic pedestrian animal,
marchant au crève til the collapse.
Pockets. What a goddamn godsend is it to possess!
The temporary holding of everything
that stacks the more and has the less –
all the things sent to abandoning,
all the things spent no how just as a waste,
all the things meant to be lost,
all the things temporarily displaced
pass-cross by while being tossed.
There’s no more meaning in the holder either,
so just keep your hands in those pockets
just as it has been done by the wicked creator
of the things possessed as maquettes.
What else the hands in the pockets would signify
than being and being ready to die?
I’m grabbing into love
as a last grip of survival;
madly and tasteless
until the taste of death.
I can feel how it loosens,
my grab to the sense of reality –
I’m afraid to ask, to know
whether it is too late…
whether she’ll be there at time…
but she is always here
in my mind
There are so many courses I could have taken,
so many paths, fighting down my traumas,
so many hearts to make my own re-awaken,
but there would be always a me…
… who has to suffer.
So, I am not mistaken that it is me…
The Martyr of My Happy Alteregos.
Once an angel offered mankind a choice
to have power to destroy or
the power to create life.
At that time, there split two different lives
in which we are living happy, and
the other in which we are now.
No one knows how alternate they are,
but it’s an awful day for living and
a beautiful day to die.
Build a house with a garden,
build an oven, earthen – marbled,
all that easy, all that nice,
but it’s just a house
of homeless materials
because it’s a family
that a home requires.