Beyond the skin

A society of souls, uneven spirits inhabit

some powerful and others powerless

this body and its smoke, its fluids, its bursts

the limit between worlds

simultaneously

mine and not mine:

all is done in pawn.

 

Borrowed.

Take it back!

I want nothing!

The air is a luxury and I should be content

away from the war

taken on by false solitudes,

the solitudes with fear are not solitary at all.

 

Only the hypnotic is real,

and its mad laughter.

Only the skin that merges and touches

without grasping

is real.

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