pic from here
A crucible of many clichés
dissolves me and I foolishly agree
as dull people who aim to be accepted.
So I too am perverting the words
The emotion stirs up any instinct
without producing reasons but cravings.
In the gloomy molasses of cheating
I am what I want be: only a bubble
I can see the evil spread in the world,
I am into it, part of it too.
The sense market alters me, as
when tobacco turns in smoke: poison
As a prostitute, I resell thinking,
while I’m mixing banal whim drives
with poor aims to be free: only dreams
Yes: each bee deeply hides only a wasp
February, 16th 2017
Thank you Leda: without you this text, like other stuffs of mine, would be less correct as grammar…