Lilac Fragrance

I was wondering today if something is wrong with me if I'm normal healthy it doesn't happen to me It doesn't I can't write anymore about shadows cemeteries crests I can't write like I used to about darkness onions also, I haven't written about my mother and father for a long time honestly, I want I really want to write about death I'm not afraid, on the contrary I have a special relationship with death as only I know but I can't nothing happens in this domain, that makes me jealous makes me grief, makes me frustrated, euphoric, then lazy, lazy, again, makes me laugh, and so on … Yes, maybe … maybe I'm already a shadow stabbed by the light of death maybe I'm already dead all over everything I know rotten body, rotten eyes, liver already eaten by worms, heart pierced by gravediggers, a nest for spiders rotten hands and I don't need to write anymore maybe this chapter has already ended on its own as a wound closes on its own ended in a flood of rivers without causing too much damage maybe as Noah did, I took a cat and a pigeon, an eagle, a goat, a cow… and I went on the ship, or maybe already, at this moment with a feather tip I touch, caress the shadows of others through your eyes now, as you read, I wake up dead I'm taking her to the waters I give her light baths I spray her with the lilac fragrance I bring her to ecstasy maybe I'm already a current, the flow of the wave without creating major floods loss or other natural disasters