Manifeste n°33

Manifesto 33

Sitting under the tree of time, I see each petal falling down.

They taught me how to walk on all four so that I would never lose my balance.

I succeeded in conquering my freedom without grabbing the drunkard’s cold hand.

Each and every one of my movements burns like a flaming torch. 

Before the mirror, I see myself digging absurdity.

Spring’s woes haven’t abolished the exiled’s sun.

Us, sinners, we struggle in this doomed corridor.

I no longer see the gazes upon me, I shut myself up in secret. Nobody knows my scene.

My performance is a symphony that no one understands.

I embark in a canoe that glides over a disintegrated ocean. 

I pretend to be a statue yet it was not its time to exist.

My jaw moves around amidst the flames.

At night, I walk along empty and irregular quays.

With vision all blurry, I don’t know how to discern the smashed brain pieces underfoot anymore.

Sleeps suck away the established dementia.

I let the angel that lights up my darknesses, rock me gently.

I can no longer bear to behold this mournful reality.

CAR ACT AIR