I close my eyes to listen to my roots, the roof over my head an illusion that did not hold up, I would take somebody else’s voice to fill the guest card and then lay down, exhausted, in my dark stories.
somebody else’s voice
Archives par mot-clé : black and white
poetry day
looking for (something)
finding (it)
crossing (it) out
reformulating (it)
doing (it) again
finding (it sometimes) out of the corner of the eye
following out of the corner of the eye, pretending that it is just following the flow of the water
What for ?
You visit me at night, mostly,
a shadow, the past. Another
life, maybe. I wake up
panting. What for ?
But cabbage trees surely have a soul passing time
I will chisel sentences, like leaves on trees, placed one by one, like commas, between the emotion of their existence and vain attempts, I will place words on the passage of time