There was a time
when, after writing a poem I used to get reckless in showing them to others.
I wanted people to hear the sounds of my words,
I wanted men to kneel down before me and I wanted women to suck my dick,
for every poem…for every ounce of my warm blood.
It has changed a lot since then, I am more of a silent wanderer now…
I see things, I write words being under the influence of psychedelics…I sail in midnight.
Perhaps with time you stop thinking about the void created by you…with time you start to see there’s still a movement in that void,
the movement of a free consciousness.
The world moves like a metal wheel, we go from time to time with a bliss of forgetting things…
And there’s a beauty in escape, there’s a good sleep beyond injured memories,
I guess I am, cause I am moving.

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Photograph: Daiga Ellaby.