Diary

I start dreaming about this diary 

out of chronological  disorder .

Perhaps a clinical study in a spider's web ,

long before I was born in the unstable,

surrounded by a monstrous bestiary ...

 Don't call me god- I am but the shadow 

of the void .

 Master noster of dissociative alchemy ...

  I wake up at night out of fear of normality .

Living in society is like rewriting the history 

of psychiatry ! 

  Why add suffering to madness ?

I don't like working in the woodshop 

it reminds me the torture of the cross...

 I love touching the skin of the clay,

its like holding the key to secret architectures...

 I am the almighty potter that shapes forms 

within the fertlle womb of the matrix ...

  all this chats just drive us appart -let's talk ! 

Don't be afraid of my fishy eyes ! 

 I'm desesperatly pounding on the walls of a house

with no doors or windows where I'm locked out ! 

  truly ,I tell you : ''If you come across this accursed Antigone

on stage ,subject her to the incestious Dyonisian wedding ! ''

  Really warning you : ''Don't believe the verses of these mischievous poets

who cause us so much pains ! ''

 Words are wild beatitudes that must be deconstructed 

through the Bacchic exhilaration of lunacy...

   To be crazy is a role that can be learned .

  The contract with the demon in white coat you will honor ! 

In an endless padded satin night you will spin ...

  The last pages of my diary will remain blank  

like a rediscovered innocence ...