Damn all intentions. Damn the expectations, illusions, calculations. Memories. Endings. Anguish, with its double sided blades, anesthetizes everything at the same time as stripping the flesh from the shredded muscles torpidly glued to the bones that have been punished by humanity. A second ago the whispering of the leaves being caressed in the trees could be heard. All these are transitions of the possible to the real. Big invincible stones worn away by the friction of the stillness which makes everything move, organize, articulate, sink. Destroyed. Constant maladjustments between what is and what should be. Dreams. Emptiness. Bad smells. Putrefaction. Reversed souls, hung out in the afternoon breeze. Wakes. Resurrections. Hope. Toxic clouds that poison the environment. Melodies. Tapping. Signs. Mould. Listen to me even if you are not allowed to do it anymore. Believe me when I tell you that I have always dreamed of this moment. Believe me when I say that I have always been here. ... Written by
Believe me even if you are not allowed to do it anymore.