self-penetration | wersja ostateczna

I come to myself with hope
discovering the world of us
like Columbus, I wander
across the recesses of the cerebral cortex
imbued with memories
First the trash is picked up
by a beloved woman by accident
accidental disaster
between crossing the border
and an oath sworn in affection
the mix turns out to be a lasting relationship
though written in a thin line like a spider's thread of existence

numerous lost sometimes victorious skirmishes
they did not break my frail back
I look with hunger in my eye
for life leaking silence
lost and removed, I go on.
Is it still me rooted in fate
Is it still hanging between midnight and noon
the uncertain reasons
burdened with absurdity, invincible but lost
I humble my destiny to the destination
with a luggage of dreams

fearless Don Quixote
making his self-image