Vanitas vanitatum (emptiness of emptiness)

And you are just fulfilled. Lying on the bed or on tve cauch.

Sitting. Walking. On your own or with others. Fulfilness.

Something that dies,

To be filled one day. Be it with cigarretes, and another one, an another one… Alcohol. Cannabis or pills.

To buy clothes or technology. To buy. To buy.

If you have bad luck, you may end up using cocaine or heroin.

A gap. A hole. Nothingness.

It doesn’t fill, it doesn’t fill…

Because you understand life as a flame, something that burns you.

A disgusting burnout from cradle to grave…

Sure they say if you have money this just rocks.

A pessimistic

Is someone realistic who happens to be well informed. To feel anything but protected.

Anything but loved.

A flower of Datura, you grew in a wasteland.

A flower of Datura. You’ll endure any draught. Nothing for beginners.

How easy is self-deceit. To negate the deepest of yourself: Any of the sweetest fruits.

Honey of orange blossom itself. For life is a garden.

You grow the good things, toss the bad ones.

And if you can’t harvest from nothingness:

You plant hope in a fallow that now you know transitory.

Cowardy is contunuity.

You lived what you’ve learn.

Transgression or courage: All inspiration is divine.

Delusion of sadness.

They are dreams, that one day collide with reality, into collapse.

From ilusion to delusion.

It won’t matter how much the Sun shines. For you the sky will be darkish… Black.

Food tastes like ashes. Tobacco tastes like death. You light another.

You feel contradicted. Emotions fight.

It is not your mind against your feeling. It is another thing: You and your circumstances.

Everything reminds you of her.

Disillusion. Truth. Today harsh as ever. And nothing, “Nothing, will collapse in vain.”

We all have principles.

From altruism to egoism. Generosity or greed.

Disposition to learn, or envy. All of them eligible.

A consequence to each action. Which may be temporary.

It is their shadows.

I can listen to him.

I can go on YouTube and type one of his songs.

Tyrone El canserbero.

That’s his shadow. Indelible, as I hold.

Even if censorship tried to silence him part of his work already lives in me.

And of mine?

I do not defend this. It cannot be argued.

I think it is beautiful, to think, that they do, know when we are appreciating their work.

We think in language.

To remember is to read.

It can be worded,

Anything.

You wake up. The Sun is green.

You look twice. Only one more time.

Trick from past years: You bite your tongue;

It is real. Everything is real.

You don’t look another time. The Sun is green.

And you wouldn’t change it if you could.

And so you commit that little crime:

You start to think.

“What is the evolutive meaning of sadness?”

And you end up in another sea. Perhaps not as intellectual, but surely beautiful.

A person can die from sadness, after any hard shock.

And a dog… A dog can die from sadness, be it after the death of the owner.

What if it is spiritual? What if it is truly spiritual? Inch Allah, Coco, inch Allah we will be together for ever.