I was wondering today if something is wrong with me,
if I'm normal, healthy,

it doesn't happen
I can't write anymore about shadows, cemeteries,
crests,
I can't write like I used to, about darkness, onions
also, I haven't written about my mother and father for a long time
honestly, I want to write about death,
I'm not afraid,
on the contrary, I have a special relationship with death as only I know,

nothing happens in this domain, that makes me jealous
makes me grief, makes me frustrated, euphoric, then lazy,
lazy, again, makes me laugh, and so on …