Ideas are the most powerful and horrible chains.
But things can be beautiful without purpose.
Mind can drip as a leaking pipe.
Don’t fool yourself into drinking too much from it.
Death is like when you are perfectly still.
But what if your mind moves?
Sometimes you need to be able to give up everything
only to keep one thing, any thing.
How do you know if 1, 2, 3 means going up or going down?
You don’t.
We always are a bit afraid of beauty; we feel vulnerable.
This is what keeps me going
It is my path of knowing,
My essence belongs to me
I'm not bound to pay no fee,
From under my skin I slowly emerge
New-borns from myself I endessly forge,
Fractions of one-second emotions die
One by one in darkness they fly,
Flawless beliefs begin to cristalize
My "I" is non of your concern how it dies!
C’ est l’un de ces moments cosmiques
Quand je m’arrête dans mon chemin
Avec ma conscience en garde :
A l’angle de la rue Linne,
Face au Jardin des Plantes.
Oui, c’est le matin,
Un matin de lumière liquide !
Mes épaules rompent la toile phréatique
Avec puissance comme la déesse Diana.
Devant moi, la fontaine Cuvier :
I hate cars passing
under my window like sea crabs
running thru rain
the wind brings familiar smells
from the old restaurant
across the street
my brain craves snow
I stare at the phone in vain
no rings this evening no soul
nobody knows I’m here
but the brown ageless cat
on my couch
exquisitely ignoring me
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