I live in dusty contrasts…
Isolating myself more and more
in a grey afternoon.
—
And let the dead principle
be of non-contradiction.
But the living
is so contradictory
that you lose count
and win, too.
—
I fill pages and pages
with my regurgitant lamentations.
The end, remote,
is a constant.
—
I am always in search of this fine line
between desert and sea.
Extending lines,
shortening,
erasing…
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