Tempor Insan

how many sustain their own sanity pointing to the coherence of the words themselves? see how they fit together, they say, here I put a nice and long onomatopoeia... there I built a beautiful alliteration... and yet perhaps not, logic is not born of this skill, it resides is in the daily positioning, concrete actions, madness makes you lose control of life sends you back to the coast, to see the birds that come in flocks frighten and prey on the dragonflies, that's why someone catalogs and explains each gesture of the thrush, but is he not also lacking in lucidity? and the man who drives the van with open doors, low speed, watermelons at 2 dollars? and one who uses his left hand to write obituaries, or the one who breeds mice to sell to laboratories, another who begs for a job in the asbestos glove factory, who faints of faculties and recognizes it with full lungs, who opens his bewildered heart and does he believe himself resigned to acknowledging his madness? the rain stops crying, it gives way to the sun and the sand dries up, like a depressed grandfather we have non-existing there in his room, he opens the door at lunchtime and sees the table set, sees the family sitting and gives up, goes back to bed sighing in comfort for not needing to demonstrate their needlessness in this plane of almost non-existence, the rain comes back in showers, lashes the waves that lash the beach, there are four monthly moons if you think about fishing.