Identity fertlized ad nauseam .
On a path between compostela
and Ibiza .
Thus ,offended by a non-being
stylised in bling-bling letters
the fairies lay wise cubist fantasia
on my birth coffin .
I am only this acrylic impression
on unspoken canvas ,
abstraction in the circus of the living ,
figural museum piece
pickled in autistic reverie ...
That\'s make Dali\'s moustache
stand on end !
And Modigliani\'s long nose lenghtens !
My father ,this custom officer
with such a tender smile.
Told me :
\"You\'ll be an artist my son ! \'\'
( Dad ,died of a bad temper ...)
Me ,I would have liked to be
a mechanic in the Titanic \'s womb
and sink into the limbo ..
( Mom is a I.A in another dimension).
This world would have been smoother
if Maradona had been a landscaper ...
I\'ve lost the damn\' blue house key...
This year Leonardo won the giro .
I love this essence in China ochre
for wild pastel souls .
Unfinished portraits,
scrawled faces of pastime girls
and pastiches..
Stealthy prints in sorrowful skins...
But the grimacing beast is still there !
Taking up the pose ,
making grotesque features
and whispering sweet little non sens :
\'\' I\'ve bought a frozen dinner for tonight love ! \'\'