In limine finis

There is no danger
talking to myself
You don’t want to believe me
but there is no communication
nor any echo
because in the end
there are no people
and even places to live
what we call life
without being Adam or Zarathustra
It is a geopolitical history
they’re telling each
but none of that
we perceive it is real
we speak and our words
are soap bubbles
that burst in your face
worse than a spit

in principle it was the case
but no object had moved
It is so easy to move
around their ideas
dancing as twelve mon&keys
around a sinuous fire
One could also sit still
and see us turn
never kill us
they continue to call upon
with no angry voice
without stopping for a moment
without a chance
to be able to quit.

 

 

 

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