why are we here? who knows
again and again a brownian movement calls life into being
these routes of collision
we wear long sentences in our pockets without weapons
thought might lose its air its visual power
words get cracked in the middle of sentence
we shrink we confuse with aborted embryos of fear,
with eons of darkness
we talk too much, too little, we get bored to listen
don't waste my time, I might lose the authority over my body
where to evacuate the responsibility of reality
we don't want to hear what we hear
words are deserted islands,
shards of reality on this battleground
uncharted territories in this mental cartography
we fear emotional implications insinuations deviations
thought alone devours the air like a monster
growling in the belly
the body's hunger for touch fills the weight of words
why are we here, why
with our scars full of passion