It is night, thoughts become deeper and deeper. Once again, I wear shoes to cross the threshold of my world. Walking barefoot only causes me great headaches. I feel the blood flowing in my veins again. I feel alive, I breathe, I almost smile. I close my eyes. I'm sitting on the bed and I think about the world. I think of this continuous becoming of sensations, emotions, feelings that I see slipping away in my mind without understanding them. I feel alone. My soul is desolate, as dry as the desert. Every sensation slips away as I try to reach it. And then I cry. Those eyes that once praised joy are now only a sad reminder of a nefarious past, a past full of painful hallucinations. Understanding and understanding this world is difficult. I try, it is a continuous becoming in full epileptic crisis. Emotions suffocated by my illness. Any smile that is magically transformed into a tear. A thousand tears that give life to this river that I call thinking. I have shoes on my feet. I want to walk. A sad return sounds in my brain. The mind that gets ill with every step in this crazy society. I cry as I walk, I cry because I walk. I look at the faces of all of them and I try to make sense of my being. A thousand pains lacerate my person. Often the evil of living. I walk without knowing where to go. I do not care. What is the use of knowing your destiny in advance? Perhaps to avoid a painful death, a tragic end, to avoid getting intoxicated with the stench of one's shit. Fixed a cat in the eye. It is near a lamppost. I see his look absent and almost full of joy. I only see it. It is a being that seeks nothing but the satisfaction of one's instincts.
I'm a train and I'm traveling to NOTHING. The wagon is as empty as my mind. People cross the compartment like thoughts that run away from every reason. I look out at the world flowing in a direction completely opposite to my logic. My back hurts, my neck hurts. I imagine a cat burping, that funny, natural gesture, maybe a little ridiculous.
A guitar plays in my mind. Fixed the emptiness inside this car, I stare at the emptiness of my mind with my eyes open. It's the end. I proceed in a single sense, in the sense of no return, of death even before knowing life. I return to the origin of EVERYTHING. I clap my hand on my thigh trying to encourage myself. I wash my face and mirror myself in the past as this train advances in the direction of non-life. I would like to cry, I would like to tell them all: "Let me do it, please!"
I get angry. I want to be alone and they won't let me. These remorse, this sense of guilt that plays, thunders against my soul, this desire to escape that haunts me, that does not leave me alone even in dreams. To flee, to flee, to flee. Escape to the desolate land of my mind. I am the emperor of my thoughts, mine is a realm of pure fantasy. I am a fool who is ready to detonate himself like a bomb for a war of ideologies. Bullshit! I imagine my body as a mega bullshit being blown up. Pieces of shit that stain the lives of all of them. My body smashed, torn, destroyed that spits on their faces thoughts that I never had the courage to express. Finally I cry. I mourn this similar idiocy that my mind can conceive. I cry because I'm alone in a world where people do nothing but advise me, show me one-way streets. But Christ, don't you see that there is a ravine in the background waiting for me? Do you want to kill me? Fuck, I must be the only author of my failure. How can we continue to live among the lies we call people? I know them, I know their shitty faces well, that coward spirit of theirs that advises me of death. Well, I want me to kill myself! After all, I deserve it. Not that I did who knows what, yet this desperate desire to love a divinity that they call parents forced me to tear my soul, to become what I am not. I am the non-person, I am the result of a psychic incest. Woe to think wrong of my words! Poor expressions that go to fuck off in the delirium of my thinking.
And then I find myself sitting on a bench reading white sheets stained with letters that try to form words, complete sentences. I continue to read, I reread those same words that try to offer me an escape route, a solution to an evil I hardly know and from which I want to do nothing but walk away.