unreasonable

i. you come here every day. you shine here every day. yet you are invisible and unknown. i feel your breath, its depth and distance. it was over. but now you know it is unstoppable. no matter how long or deliberately you hide. if you know, to recognize that you know, if you don't know, to realize that you don't know.
ii. you are like some wicked electricity. the days are thin without you. i bury them in boxes one by one. the water records everything i do, all these unfinished processes. my left hand writes a concise history of anger. it will be published in two volumes, the second of them posthumously.

iii. europeans were like fleas carried by on the black rat. they took the world by surprise and infected it. though their maps hide it they poisoned the planet with geometry. the exiled could never make it back. their space was cut from history.

iv. what has actually happened? this question haunts you like blood that has never circulated your veins. you feel the absence, the overwhelming solitude of dying man. you watch the smoke and understand your fate.

v. fear.

::: revolutionary authority can be based only on active revolutionary force ::::

a theft

time was your posession ... till the rush broke through your eyes and the pain cursed all your records. the sentiment is gone ... each new second is a renegate from some unknown system. you try to follow, but the water has its own rules. you pass them all: mother killers, fathers' slaves... now, all things are marked by escape, you are the last man standing. tomorrow we will burn the city. the circumstances inclined us to believe that the loss of time could be compensated by the procuration of space. the gods will laugh in our faces.

::: ghastly specter of tragedy :::

white apple

today your mind is a white apple. another fruit of this deadly season. one day the crowds will beg for permission to swallow your poison. la nuit, ma soeur sauvage. the poetry will return to its origins through your eyes or -maybe- in your eyes. till then i will continue to search the word, which will bring all images to an end. because only in the end all our desires will become transparent and the ever-collapsing world will fulfill the celestial testament.

::: gone :::

isolated

the only thing you see is the water. you are all shouts inside. but nothing comes out. every other minute brings you closer to this blurred landscape without edges. there is no artificiality, the cruelty of this disaster is sacred. it returns everything to the origins. i can see the roots of time on the bare body of the land. in the morning everything will be wasted. the future will become an imminent threat. the only thing you see is the white noise of the night. and everything comes out.

::: on my face :::