Storage 14

because I am definitely far from your name and because I feel the coldness of the stones I inhabit, in addition to the roughness of the surfaces I find, the lack of comfort and the wind from this distance, I pushed aside the smiles but failed to ward off the fool pain of your memory, storing everything in the same shadow that consumes me, because up here the sun is not light, up here every star is just a fierce blade and the quicksand of this soil swallows all life and hope and so, because still I have something human left, I allowed this instance to be a kind of neurological slaughterhouse where the red corridor and the hanging hooks would spare you, leaving you only to observe my gestures, now limited to sorting the debris of my thoughts, classify the waste and remains of the of the last years, the decadence of my galaxies and its stupid stages, the incorrect decisions that only increased my mistaken selfishness and now here you are, a squalid image of reality, the projection fantasy of my sick mind, witnessing in the abstract the last staggering steps of the nightmare I used to call existence.