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Words confuse and create equivocal thoughts |
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Thoughts silently transmit our inner essence |
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The eternal silence leads to oblivion. |
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I am contradiction, the boundary, inside and outside |
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I am difficulty, immoderation, mannerism, simplicity, rigor, baroque, minimalism |
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I'm like this music that twists around itself, that gets torn and recomposes. |
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I'm the result of a test, the survivor of a living |
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Rottenly imbued of my life, counterpoint to the petrification of pain |
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Heap of rocks, skeleton of soul, voice suspended in a dream |
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Longing for entering the mystery of visible |
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For tasting the sweet horror vacui. |
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I listen to the silence |
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I feed myself with fear, rage, anguish and unspoken sensations |
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Surprised and spellbound by the grotesque and eclectic revelation of things. |
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I perceive something tragic here |
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And my mind is blood and confusion. |
