The light is now dying
sufficent only to create
aberrant andows that wrap my ankles
I try to untangle myself, but I can't!

I just want to throw up
while the pillow choke me

I see my limbs plunge into the crib,
putrefying among the mites
i'm drowning! I'm entering! I'm inside...
have I ever been awake?

As corpse, bury traumas
decomposed,
they disappear in the subsoil,
pulverizing,
until every trace of existence disappeares

fading in pain
the black fruits
of the bad luck,
unknowingly gathered already rotten
from the tree of life
like an altar of perversion
contamined by the worms

fading in pain
in communion with the celestial body
of putrefaction
let yourself go
and embrace the death
with the astral projection

Sulphur visions seek me
into this narrow cave summoning me
my nostrils can feel it.... that abhorrent smell again
discerning the stench
of mutilation over these strange remains

The dismal flutes of the wind
still afflict my mind
reverberation of an ancient pain
from the unremembered Oligocene time
Dark Cosmos.

A stream in the sky guide me toward the dream
but the mirage asphyxiates my spirit

.."Tekeli-li" "Tekeli-li" ...

You cry sour salt,

I cry crystals of salt.

This horrendous boreal landscape embraces me.

You must create it
as a parasite feeds of his mind
to the point of sucking all lymphs,
only the relics of a dehydrated plant
left to wither under the sun ramain
cessation of life in every form.

Fighting bloody wars
dismembering emotions
from the abstract bodies
chasing ghosts of a flattering reality
in a whirwind of souls and thoughts

diving,
in the deeper subconscious
more unknown
but it dosen't even make sense

vain attempts
hunting a mere serenity

when it's still an open wound
and there's nothing else to be done
then waiting for the end
in a perpetual decay
in a constant degradation
I hear the buzz of flies and horseflies.

The deluge rages
the water pours slowly on the windscreen
as a clot of blood
a shapeless mud that exacerbates my movements

A choking voice on the phone
tells the arrival of a dimension of sorrow

Finally I can admire it the design
of an open head on the tread

[ I see the stars bleeding
their incessant flow swallows my gaze
my empty white eyes meet each other
I see the stars crumbling
my frail and tired legs
will rest, will rot ]

And now the wooden raft
cuts through the pond among the water lilies
Above,
the dead body,
the incense on the hands,
the butterflies on his wounds, on his griefs

It has never been so resplendent
She has never been so beautiful.