...And it sings, sings...
Would you mind if I die?
I write about sensations, moods and apparitions,
while people give parties to cover the silence.
There is no sense in feeling remorse for a thing you could not control.
And death sings, sings...
Would you mind if I die?
What did you want when you continued to ask?
My energies must be direct to an act.
I continually research a sure channel to address my emotive contradictions.
I yearn they have a positive origin
Intolerant towards imperfection.
I practise a secret auto-therapy,
I practise... a personal and secret auto-therapy,
against the shame of publicly showing our own signs.
(memento audere semper)