I confess the faith I placed in the self-importance,I confess the faith in self-sufficiency. Way of drying upAcross barren fieldsAnd furrow of loneliness and suffering.This
Étiquette : suffering
Gasping Point (1/2)
All these meanders and sleights of handAre a dead-end.They push me deeper into the dark.Their roads all finally narrowAnd swear to smother meIf I follow
Brutalizing In The Background
For all my writing : kilometers spread out in paper mattressesFor all my reaching : unattainable places,For all my preaching to nearby villages,About the time
Reported Compassion
In my eyes, as soon as compassion starts showing the first sign of ostentation, it is off-track…And stops being a path I want to follow.That
A Wolf, At Night
You’re blowing the squalls of magnetic particles,they infiltrate my mind, steal me from the presentthey flatten my inner landscapes to the boardwhere the absence of
A Hand, A Slap
And now that it has become impossible for you to chase me away from homeThere is not a single place where I cannot feel at
