I saw those eyes. They opened like a nightmare’s dream in the dark. The spots appearing on the nape of my neck were strangled within the synapses of my mind.

 

I stripped my all-knowing tongue within the aortic artery. They forced me to carry death in the middle of the night. At first, everything was slow. As if a millimetric pendulum clung to the legs of Christ and pleaded:

 

— The world is a toy train with broken iron. Every day, I carry steam to it. Pus flows from the bodies within, and I wear them. Sisyphus compelled me to this! Fins are weeping on my chronological fingers, and the fish cast into the fire are sucking their own sweat! Please, help!

 

I hang a curtain over myself. Da Vinci smears my bones with lobsters; he builds the first airplane from my arms, and when it crashes to the ground, I am drenched in the breath of green antelopes.

 

The sting burning my throat upon the crystallized water…

In the attic of a locked palace, I hung my Gothic signature upon its flesh. — I cannot hold on!

 

And there, the ugly-faced sorcerer entering through the door… The piece of flesh inside the swaddle turned me into coal. I am the porcelain of flowers withered from thirst in the lakes. I cannot move.

 

The soft shrine in the center of my chest is being inscribed with nails.

 

A demon has established its kingdom in my ear.

 

Those eyes are still wandering like a soul suspended in the darkness…

 

My God, I cannot sleep!