I still...
Many people believe that
life is a road, a cycle or an episode
inside at least some system.
Each one goes to his own scaffold
in his own attire with his own meaning.
Some follow the signs of the universe,
Some hit science with stones,
Some expose the Liars.
And I… I don't care at all,
I wake up
at my own peril, at my own peril.
I choose a cup and fill it with coffee
every minute of every day
at my own peril, I still “two missing words”.
Like the sun is drowned in the water,
When the wind already blows in the east,
Like animals cling to the skin of the skinned,
When forests are burning,
look at the clock:
“04:30”, but keep scrolling
like to be Blackface for dolly,
And then just wake up again.
As I use to say: “Of course, I'm OK”
“For me, there is no need to pray”
I'm just at my own peril,
Without concept, without intent
until the last minute
still… “two missing words”.
N