Desperation has no home,
it travels the streets,
seeking vacant hearts
to plant its seeds.

Desperation is aggressive,
chaos in the soul is its order.
Flourishing so quickly,
it disrupts the air of stillness,
sighs in satisfaction,

Desperation hates Consciousness
– the owner favoured him too much.
It prevented him to control Words,
to spill them out
from the muted tongue.

Do you know what’s my favourite hobby?
Rewiring Intentions,
manipulating the goodwill to self-centeredness,
then come out from the shadows of the mind,
only to print a label of myself
on the body’s reflection.

Meet the love of my life:
Isn’t she beautiful?

We are ambitious people.

Desiring to carve out their empire,
they grow stealthily,
mimicking a tumour,
first from the heart,
then to the brain,
and settle at the mouth,
controlling the strings
to articulation.

Soon Desperation will be isolated
to the margins
of humanity.

But it will love the hatred,
feeding on it scrumptiously.

It will continue
knocking on the closed doors against him,
haunting us
with his repetitive.


2 thoughts on “Desperation

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