My daily madness

'' Without the idea of suicide I would have killed myself long ago ! ''

        (  Emil  Cioran ) 

     This is a soft concrete cushioning the jolts of  reminders 

      where phrases crash together in manic phases .

      So , I'm gona throw back an anxiolitic mojito 

      that will me make me dream about strange thinks 

     undressing Mona Lisa ...

     Undoubtedly  some unhealthy projection of the '' That ''

   picked up somewhere in a Stephen King  delirium ...

   Faced with this kind of permanent suffering from indifference,

   Suicide is an alternative or there is still  life ...

A question haunts me and which I have not found 

a final solution : 

 In which life was I happy for the last and only faith ?

Ar(chao)logy of malaise is a fascinating  alchemy  

but risky when scaling the peaks of collapse...

 Locked in swampy introspection I never knew

how to escape into the face of another ...

The Riga magician sacrificing  his  queen 

has always posed a tactical problem to me...

How to conjugate an intense future 

with puppets dissolving at dawn  in my present 

 and always pretend that yesterday will come again ?

But all this is just a vague illusion mercilessly

merchandised  in the scynical of the sound...

That was straight up  wild ,

 I know that in reality nobody gives a damn ...

The pressure crook has come out of the closet ,

at what temperature will he implose ?

  Mayhem keeps rolling in my daily madness ...