The Chimera of Generations
they don't want dramatic parents anymore
sentimental
they got bored of them
they are sick of exaltation
they don't want the vehemence of which
the parents hung on
convinced that it would be freedom
we
those with a muzzle swollen by history
we look at them with trembling eyes
in hidden tears
we
do we wake up? or die?
we died
we woke up
but they discreetly wrap
around around contre jour
on an old heart
another world
vehemence
our only final reward
they scratch their fine ears
and they offer us
an image about which
we do not know
they do not know
they don't tell us anything
easy
to be as easy as possible
existential flake on an anonymous wall
easy
easy
and no windowsill to look at
no return airport
no word on current status
nothing past or bandaged
just to be easy
you pay this time trust me
at least once
drinking beer together
I just follow the trajectory of a flake
I keep my eyes closed
like a child and I imagine
that you overcome life's difficulties
in that lifetime of a snowflake
and then i let you go
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