It was invented that the lack of human solidarity was making a white blindness. I'm asking myself whether my daily suffering has turned me white.

The darkness of the night

The dark tones grow slowly in the night
and everything becomes bluish and purplish
just like the dead that are buried six feet under
being slowly devoured by tons of insects.

The moon is shining rays of striking white
but on the earth they do not bestow their light.

Hear your thoughts become louder
and your heartbeat turn deafening
as the wind decided to stroke your hair
your face turned from pale blue to red.

And all the while the animals flee
hiding and seeking shelter in some tree.

Now rises every noise around you
as if they were once oppressed voices
and your blood speeds inside your veins
while your body starts running wild.

Come now wanderer through the night
hope that no wolf will make you fright.

To believe and to not believe*

Olivia: Simone, you have a gift. You can see things that other people can't. I don't doubt that. But wherever you think this gift came from, or whoever you think bestowed it upon you, it's simply an anomaly. I know that because I'm an anomaly. I have moved things with my mind. I've lit things on fire. I've caught bullets mid-air. I've seen things that people only dream about. I've seen... the seams between universes ripped apart. Things that humans shouldn't see. People make up explanations, assign meanings to things without knowing, because it's reassuring, comforting. But I can't do that. Because I know too much. It's all just numbers. And the invaders, as you call them—— they're just better at math than we are.

* in Fringe, 5th series

Dying in this spiral of blood-sweat-&-tears
I rest my soul in your metal heart
and deliver into your hands my charcoal heart

be gentle, don't in the end dust it apart. 

Nothing to lose but the beat of the drum.

Once your detachment is complete and you got nothing to lose, the only thing attached to you is your beating heart.

On bleeding and dying

How can someone bleed so much and so many times and not die?
How can someone die so many times and not disappear?

You bleed but at the same time, even though the wound is open, there is a huge battle being fought for you to scar. And with time, eventually, you end up with a closed wound.

You die, time and time again, as you rise from your own ashes and sometimes, most of times, only a part of you dies, not the whole complexity of your being.
Yes, that must be it.

Boredom

Nothing to do but to watch time rust everything with its oxidizing clock.

You ask me how I am

Whenever you ask me how I am,
I think: how the hell do you think I am?

Trying to resuscitate
but it's been more than two months
and no sign of life
So I'm guessing I'm no Jesus
maybe, who knows, in the third month

I think I'd better stick on trying
not to crumble and fall into tears
whenever I miss you too much

But it's easy to say and hard to do
like every other thing
because I'm still so close to you
in my thoughts always
surrounded by references of us.

So ashes to ashes I await
as I'm buried in the dust of my heart
knowing you were the only good thing
in my wretched life and now I have not.

When feelings are pure they are never altered by time, not the Love nor the Hate.