My inner fortress

This girl who sings is like a disembodied love 

without  face and  smell .

 I want to touch her emptiness .

Her voice is soft and smoothing .

Perhaps like that of a mom ?

 I don't know what a mother's voice sounds like.

  Vox humana or princess of all wars ?

I have neither the lyrics nor the accompaniment...

A melody before the first kiss can't be improvised

and nourishes you with a smile ...

I learned to smile because it is part of good manners 

and useful for hidding a grimace !

  It's not like laughter ,which provides protection

within the all of an empty fortress ...

  I have read extensively throughout my life .

Including philosophers like Oskar Spengler 

and Tintin reporter ! 

 But sometimes ,there are stories 

that I find hard to understand ...

 Something sheep-like in the desert

or roses millions of light years away ...

And then a heart with eyes is medical nonsens ! 

Fortunately ,I am an intelligence 

 stamped aspargus ! 

  why make grown-ups who enjoy childish games

believe such silliness ?

  I've always wanted to punch that pretentious 

little '' Petit prince '' in the face !

 I was alone on that gentle little café ,

listening to the voice of this girl 

 whose name I don't want to know 

  ( Is she a mother ? ) 

Lulled by a few piano notes ...

 It was so beautiful .

 but it didn't remind me of anything...

And then the gunman  arrived 

and shot the pianist 

 with a globalist middle-class smile...

  The enemy will come to steal lyrics and music 

from my empty fortress .

 But I know how to resist aviators 

who think they  are poets ...