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In the epicentre of the known
and unknown emotions
he cries to the winds,
in an accumulation of shapes and
colours only seen
in the most daring of the oneiric experiences…
so concrete it's like the blood
that washes the condemned in dreams,
caught in the past

In the centre of essential chaos, where the flutes
that embrace dreamers play, the death that will come
will tremble and reign among the living, like a plague

Wait so smiling in the presence of the oppression of mankind
and spreading pleasure like a primary method of release

Walking naked exposed to the danger of not being
but a small light inside the absolute
essential chaos

Understanding is nothing but an illusion
and it has always been like this

I can only see thousands of paths
that are divided labyrinthinely along
my satisfied surface

On my back I drag the chains
grey and heavy and cold, of eternal steel

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