Page 5 - Demo
P. 5
NADA (Nothing)
Sometimes all that is mine comes down to
wanting torment. To desire the end of this clouding peace.
Loving, ailment, appetite for hurricane.
Let all that’s dead be taken away, that which is living be
blown up, burnt down. Urges me, tricks me into its
misfortune, that of the black sky and lightning, that of this thirst for fresh air and
fainting.
It all comes down to this murderous impetus to end the mornings, the
paths, the rebirth and dying.
With the seconds floating on nothing.
Nada
