I dreamed I was a disk on which
the story of my life was being burned

as I was spinning
I was giving new sensations
to the writing sheet
the chandelier
and the other things in the room

I was spinning
and spinning
and the needle harrowing my memory
was getting closer and closer
to the tiny hole in the centre
where I would forget everything unexpectedly
and be just like the writing sheet
the chandelier
and the other things in the room