Every night,
I open a new door to a secret tale,
a flashback from the threshold.
I wish I had put everything on the right side,
but I can’t find the words to express this state of being.
Happiness is like an ephemeral sound,
trying to escape from tight shells,
squeezing thoughts into a small black hole.
I don’t see a linear existence.
I’m always between whispering dreams,
listening for a long time, a mermaid chant
patiently waiting for a joyful symbol,
a reward for the time absorbed.
Now I am tired, I need to sit down
on a stone of my decisions.
I hope to stay a while in my inert numbness,
but I really want to be reborn into another story.
I wish to feel true reciprocity one day
without useless words or expectations
and after quietly complete
my last human transformation.