All about: pain

Ceci n’est pas un poème déprimé
The hatred of my hatred vindicates me: I am still a consciousness in and of the world, death foreshadowing in all of its tissues My body tortures itself I must watch, I watch pain is no measure as my spirit is gone this is not suffering: I am an automaton I don't want to wait ...
Cum granu salis
There is the commitment of a slow suicide inside my mouth flaring nerve tissue makes me a beast of seconds foregone my extravanganza, the wordsome Walpurgnis Night of wild hue candelabras burning into the popliteal intimacy of progress - relinquished Swearing and sweltering I lock myself in debasement reddish eyes sore at glaring screens a ...
Pain and its absence
great health is like the fullness of a symphony orchestra playing a great ballooning crescendo as if in the next moment it could devour the maestro but still play on can you, if you are in great health, feel this absence of pain and would it be like a silence, an deadly empty musical score? ...
April 22. La Paz.
La Paz. It is cold indeed and the bus driver halts for me so I can take my jacket out of the luggage compartment. The old orange one that has served in Russia earlier on the road. The arrival in La Paz is spectacular and comfortable. A modern bus terminal right in the center, plenty ...