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