language is lost in it´s lonely rooms

The man who never in his mind and thoughts travel'd to heaven is no artist.” -William Blake.


I perceive you
persevere you

language is lost in it´s lonely rooms
everybody is fuckin crazy
in the illusion of re creating wars
of words

words are the same
we have destroyed their meanings

Significant changes

Tranströmer will maybe win the Nobel Prize
who gives a damn

I give a damn

I give a damn damn about language

so I say fuck

Inmaculate times, no

everything vanishes

these poems are broken
trying to find their poetry lost

these poems are post poems
post mortem poems

the poetry in them is the ignored
pulse

the electric nano thunder through
your brain

I travel a lot
being all around

crazy
lost
sinner
thinker
stupid

selling my life
in order to feel independent

we all sell something

travel
the world is smaller
the world is the same world anywhere
there´s no difference

there´s a you
there´a a me
and there´s sex

think about it
perceive it

language
creator
language
in significance

these are the lines
of a continuum
this is the same poem

but there is no
poetry

this is the same poem

until the end
until the end