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It's in the senseless
where I can find certain excuses
to separate inescapable constancy
from the straight path

It can be instinct
or merciless frivolity
what will rise me or
what will maybe absorb me in
perpetual parallelism…

Damned! You who find beauty in the
insignificant

Devils! Who with grace suffer the
elementary of existence

It's in the senseless
when the lack of misgivings
becomes so palpable
that it could bleed of solitude,
when I could one by one
look into your eyes,
point you, pronounce sentence
and without blushing, pull the trigger

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