I don’t want an entrance into the emotional.
I don’t want anything imposed and
created with the prefix: must.
It’s getting tiring, it almost is
like some artificial kindness
which we don’t even notice is happening
because everything was reduced to superficiality.
I don’t have to do anything.
Nor what is imposed as a mass installation
interests and hysteria for
concession in flirting with the banal.
I can’t stand the chaos that reigns in every man
with the intention of erasing identity and causing illness.
In fact, I don’t want anything more.
Spent credit on fake copies
crystals in the shape of pyramids,
as a symbol of purity of soul
and deceptive lights as a challenge.
I don’t even want a challenge.
Everything has already been seen.
This fluff from a torn soul
it just trembles.