(no subject)

[taechay]

I came beyond the silverwheel and gathered fruits from the tree of clouds
I hasted through oblivion, built a house out of my body ..
the windows are like my soul

my soul? the refrain of the song of my life? a kind of hymen or foreskin?

this is the day of registrated miracles, registrated to be buried

they wash the ocean so that they can silently dirten the dirt

I know why I watch the movie of madness
I know why I say what I say
it is me, driving down the hallway of society in a taxi
my hands are white and I do not find novelty
neither in the lines of my fate, neither in this world of capitulation or frency

I do not choose the gun
maybe because my pills have no taste