words from Koan’s: Best before next one
Cheated by mechanisms which, perverted enough to get pleasure, melt to the light: if only we think we could see, we close our eyes.
We close our hands.
Shut secrets of absolute need of warm.
And still we wish clouds and we choose them full of water, water that melts, water that fades, water that drains with the salt of good intentions.
We never pass from the start, we never collect the prize, we throw dices again and again, the sound of dices is what we want.
Numbers are always the same for us who made denial a profession, the ace in the sleeve is ready to be given to the antagonist.
And if, through the courtain of moist and denial, should appear a ray of clear feeling, we couldn't touch it, embedded with our nails under the skin.
And if, at the end of the courtyard overrun with spontaneous pains, should sprout a petal of may be, we wouldn't be able to pick it up, among the stones of habit.
Knots tightened by fingers of a well known colour, soft around our throat, tight around a sea that pounds inside, we think we're swimming, but we slowly appear on the surface only to not melt completely.
I hold tight nightmares between my legs, between my teeth only a memory that tastes of "i would have".
I can't let go.
I can't let me go.
And still I lose every time.
(no manipulation, writings are from casted slides.)
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