Number 8

A pink hole, a worm
it tells you where to kiss
it points you the gallantry
When was the last time you got lost?
Where were you?

It is the hole on my hand
that makes the harvest slides
and I think about the future,
I won’t face it today
today there is only the citrus on the lips
there is only a house, a cloud
Wait!
The box open
there come out
a Chimera
a butterfly
it bothers you when it lays on your nose
Don’t you realize that you are an insect as well?
That it is a human being?

Teach me again how to conduct my life
give me more scars on my arms
give me psychiatric drugs and alcool and coffee
without which
the afternoon doesn’t happen
Will you come tomorrow?
If I’m asking you
it’s because my ego has to be feeded
What did you expect?
We are social animals
It is about being social animals.

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