The aura crumbles
Eruption
Eruption
The sound of a megaphone in my head…
I am too useless to come back to death,
to come back to poetry.
Nothing inside,
nothing roars,
nothing say to me to find myself.
The paradox of my survival exists
cause I am too tired to search for a hide of madness.

You think you can objectify my thoughts,
you think you can put me in a paper with blurred pixels…
The road is long,
the engagement with a desert,
the banality of a tossed mind…
I know I am a voice of tethered shape
and I have immersed with too much senses to be justified with alienation.

…………………………………………………………….

Photograph: Giulia Rose.