monday
at the end of november
or the beginning of december
the new year is far away
still unusually closer
to nothing
graffiti proclaims
"time will not pass!"
this final message
disrupts my life
all communications appear
obscurely threatening
lately
posting messages online
for no one to read
the goal was not beauty
or public approval
evolving toward
simple urban disaster
the only thing better
was time spent in silence
—
nothing online is real
as
the guillotine drops
right in front of the camera
reflecting surprise
even on a clear day
—
a gray sky
crystallized frost
as evening falls
the snowflakes
harden
as death sets in
no one is at the wheel
—
i'd rather call her
"my darling"
or
"my love"
conservative
but common
ordinary
in habit
at least
in this home
—
i have been sleeping poorly
in an empty room
with the curtains drawn
there's no place for me
in a world marked by
family tradition
still
i arrive with a message of hope
to silence the prophets of doom
presenting a Faustian pact
making love
and
not making love
a historical mystery
not worth meditating on
as there is
no choice
—
i assume
a singular destiny
in favor of survival
praying to god
and not asking silly questions
—
overlooking the park
i think about
the psychological toll
of unemployment
as real failures increase
with mind-boggling proportions
god permits such suffering
in the catholic sense of the term
in order to break the will
of weaker men
—
i nod
as vague memories
of strolling through
some pleasant landscape
intervene
and end
—
it's very simple
in reality
there's almost nothing to know
about living
you just let yourself be guided
through personal contact with god
and reflections on work
which has no echo
—
it feels like i'm deleting messages
only to find them reappearing elsewhere
—
for security purposes
i consider people to be mostly good
—
on a day of endless traffic jams
there was no longer a cloud in the sky
fixed on an indeterminate point in space
instead
giving the impression of coming out
of a paranormal tv series
exactly the difference between
'has' and 'was'
—
a poem resurfaces
isolated from memory
at the end of this particular crisis
i wrote down my favorite sentence
'it's a shame'
—
the weather turns bad on a saturday morning
just to remain interesting
it'd be better to take a walk
than to explain the situation
it's all a little depressing
—
in my dreams
i'm miserable and argumentative
it's a vulgar type of fun
the sea and clouds give way to night
and this vacation
feels like forever
it must have been something
i read on the internet
—
everyone
in their natural position
looks away from the rearview mirror
arriving at the destination
and disappearing in another direction
—
in habit
i picked up a coffee
before marvelling at the landscape
as if god was present
at the moment of creation
—
prime numbers have driven people crazy
especially in the arts
people behave
as if in the presence of
an important file
as if there was no doubt
this is a mystical crisis
—
i manifested
real relief
by this strange genetic detour
motionless in an abstract space
a new year
a new number
where we could not identify
with the triumph of the gods
—
i found myself shaking
near a clump of hydrangeas
announcing bad news
with care
the dog is in a bad mood
—
after a deep sleep
with no dreams
i felt the day would be long
i should change my habits
eat some green vegetables
—
good good good good good good
not my problem
raising hands to point out the absurdity
of the hypothesis
yes alright i agree
a moment of doubt
with pleasure
—
i am a
distrustful and solitary animal
life seems boring
but i do admire these
online terrorists
me?
i just lie down
and try to sleep
—
every morning
the appeal of leaving
fills me with joy
turquoise mint fuschia
there is nothing to celebrate
probably nothing
—
i think of
hunting
fishing
gathering
gleaning
alone
free
but alone
—
something about satan
something about baphomet
something about the unabomber
it doesn't surprise me at all
—
what was normally a sign of affection
seems more like a
professional formality
life is complicated
even though it feels like
ancient history
now
—
it was destiny
whatever we succeeded in
whatever we accomplished
all our work
we delude ourselves into thinking otherwise
—
one desires
what others desire
it's amazing that we're subjected to such humiliations
—
it's taken a long time
but i'm swaying
at the end of the rope
—
the fact
is that
revenge had been brutal
and yet
justice will not served
sometimes the world seems
temporarily surrendered to the power of satan
just so mercy can intervene
an error has been committed in your favor
a farewell to reason
dead end
—
there is only one pleasure
which would become more and more difficult to ensure
no interview, no statement
you mostly shut up
i just want to see you in a mini-skirt
and maybe fuck
as if we needed it
from a technical standpoint
it would be perfect
—
the southerly winds
blow ashes
on my clock
like black magic
a consequence of new technology
—
100% of women
fantasize about being fucked
in the woods
—
i feel nothing but peace
how sweet
now
nowhere is it painful
—
life is one gift from god
and god will help you if you help yourself
and
your life belongs to those who love you
—
there's physical love
that crosses the shadow of death
the standard of validation
against all odds
—
we weren't so made for living
but we've been lucky
very lucky