FLAT 1 Room 3
FLAT 2 Room 1
FLAT 2 Room 2
I’ll tell you how to access such a strong rapture:
I cast the image of explosions and laceration onto the wall of reality.
Here, now, maybe some kind of silent solution took shape.
While hoping for the light to enhance the beauty of the objects,
I see things consuming, draining every single possibility making way for intelligibility.
I am completely worn out after persistently,
pushing the boundaries of my physical capabilities.
Then, comes the need for possession.
The dividing line stands out as everything.
There, no desire is lost, you are a part of it.
It benefits from everything that you don’t benefit from.
Everything I love is angst, the stirring stands on the verge of terror:
the icons overflow, they reveal my ecstasy.
Whoever enters this world of lonely and not thirsty entities, loses their energy,
as children who can’t even recognize the tedium of their own sharp tears.
Maybe, the recess fulfills everything you are supposed to envisage.
You delightfully squeeze your fingers into the erosions and
really feel like you can visit it.
You do nothing but observe how it changes through its fickle names.
In order to survive,
the ambiguous translation of a dead language needs to be led astray, increasing its own new impurities.
I see failure in violating a Grave, in sealing the grotesque inside oneself.
I lose myself inside those few precious things, my skin gets still burned by.
I give up on the gold inside the seashell.
I saturate the space with a new dazzle.
Every way out is a notched mould, my eyes sift through them:
new flows are needed in order for them to be truly resolved.
It’s an outer limit: it screams, blinds, dazzles to become shrieking.
Still it’s not a mere suggestion but a categorical imperative:
Distract yourself,
every time you want to.
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