Knowledge: cursed fruit of experience.
My thematics: always mathematics.
I shelter a chimeric perceived criticism.
Friendly without being familiar,
Surrounded by vulgar, familiar,
Without being, friendly.
The more the individual is, the more the mystery is fascinating.
Approach or scuttle. I attack ridiculous corruption,
Because I do not feel so good in this tiny vise
Who hug me everyday.
Indeed, in hell, I consider you,
And in fact, I think you can not do anything for me.
So why am I fighting for you?
The only possible relationship is to see each other
In the miror.
No interest in waiting for praise,
Better to stay in the lodge.
Why fight with the domesticated
What I can find in the dark in me?
What use is there to use
My power for power?
7th sense unparalleled in the seven heavens.
Pure and perfect expression,
Uniqueness in mission, in friction, great bison.
5th level in Dabro’s psycho’,
Where I sketch the tortures of the outclassed
By sleight of hand, chasing skillfully
The sacred authority that trains me: myself.
Destroy everything, then rebuild everything.
I deduce, to better lead me.
Just dig my hole;
This is sometimes a bit blurry.
Any creative action
Is first act of destruction,
So I approach the string, tune the string,
Transship the aorta, absorb the horde.
Some establish themselves as deprived of values,
Amplify in error, but tear is the weapon.
They distinguish bad, imagine the mess;
Drink booze to let go,
While I’m intellectualizing;
While I’m intellectualizing what I’m intellectualizing …
Me, in the capsule, you, on the train from evening to morning.
Divine cycles, endless issue, distant fabric,