I do not feel that I do not feel anything but rather everything
I extend my arm and loose it throughout desolation, in the rubble of boredom
I am not sure anymore whether I am a member, an exuberant thought
Face the world with frail limbs and get carried away with the wind
The wind itself does not cling anymore
The impression of printing a platonic sensation on the invisible layer of existence
To lurch upon endless paragraphs
Fill oneself with words and redeem unknown memories
To sell them in the moment of freedom
To evacuate the ashes of a past
Which is known, which is not sealed
Behind sewn lips and barbed wire