special thanks to ERRECI STUDIOS
I was seventeen through severed wind, rippled by scents of turgid, snappy bodies,
degrading the leaden drafting of ancient power.
I was seventeen among urban, sizzling stones, scapes of smeared fabric, colourful
blinding dust, suffocating.
I was seventeen and now I am laying down among rubbles of ancient ruins.
The swing of an ax shatters a rugged holy-water font.
The city: a tamed ashtray.
Ash, rarefied tar.
I rediscover eyes of dripping, ravenous intention. Parched, cracked lips.
Flesh, saliva, ferment.
Monuments to the becoming, in its changing, cheeky and cocky.
I was seventeen and now I do not understand crevices piercing my sight, my limping
I was seventeen and now I do not understand, but I am scrutinising polished and
clear flux: free. Unstoppable.