the echo that defines the abyss
I wake up at one thirty
then I forget to eat and and fight myself
the evenings are prettiest: I drink
and watch hero movies in which heroes
follow a direction
All about: pain
Toothache :)
I want to write an ugly poem about it that is fully artificial a temporary edifice in broken verse I want to reinvent every word to prey and rape the makers of my pain I want to kill the little man who reads the pain to me turn off his sound and wait and see ...
do you know a name? (parental guidance advised)
every Monday i wake up with with a pain that i am not allowed to call pain some subconsciousness has conspired to destroy whatever vital ambition i hate this fucking show but i am not allowed to turn it off week by week my life is rotting away i have lost all interest and inspiration ...
real hypochondria
I created this illness
together with histamines
and B lymphocytes
to you, I imagine the pain
worse: you nod and I recoil
I have no heavens to curse
and shallow is the temptation of the soil
Ceci n’est pas un poème déprimé
The hatred of my hatred vindicates me: I am still a consciousness in and of the world, death foreshadowing in all of its tissues My body tortures itself I must watch, I watch pain is no measure as my spirit is gone this is not suffering: I am an automaton I don't want to wait ...
Cum granu salis
There is the commitment of a slow suicide inside my mouth flaring nerve tissue makes me a beast of seconds foregone my extravanganza, the wordsome Walpurgnis Night of wild hue candelabras burning into the popliteal intimacy of progress - relinquished Swearing and sweltering I lock myself in debasement reddish eyes sore at glaring screens a ...
Pain and its absence
great health is like the fullness of a symphony orchestra playing a great ballooning crescendo as if in the next moment it could devour the maestro but still play on can you, if you are in great health, feel this absence of pain and would it be like a silence, an deadly empty musical score? ...
April 22. La Paz.
La Paz. It is cold indeed and the bus driver halts for me so I can take my jacket out of the luggage compartment. The old orange one that has served in Russia earlier on the road. The arrival in La Paz is spectacular and comfortable. A modern bus terminal right in the center, plenty ...