luni, 24 decembrie 2012

el vudú de anais (martín broussalis)

Old Inner Absence

Im not
Here. Anymore
versus No More, inside never
happened friends, drinking with
me, after my death moment,
in all decency did initiated
a warm and rainy diversion
universe, with personal laws
and temporal straws, lived,
just by me, and only then,
when I felt simple as a
laundry electrical rithm,
that Im dying, faster
than life - my fifth job pimp,
ever fucked me. Blur.

253 multiple of an eye-ball,
not at all sincretical, painting
my wall. Extatic emptiness
blooming my days, useless
fertility striping my nights.
Nowhere land of titless
fairies mutilated by their
flight magic through silicon
implants, vastly payed by
my sleepless dreams, against
each and every window of
stubborn reality I’ll crush
with my pink spit
aqualudical macerated
thoughts, this Saturday.