No glory, the innocence has fallen
Don’t tell me all you know
Without you my golden cloak is deaf
Keep thinking my emptiness is both pretty and confused
In every word I wish shall bathe me
And who rebuilt I?
But alone channeling the night in my toe
The I that I am is not in usual historic time
Yet a mind self, the self is a mind
Perceiving with a thing on my shoulder
Expand-contract
Leave my ore alive and group with arguing, English, space
Shy – micro – love
Arising with stuffing
General life, unknowable, simple

And then there was peace for a while
Emotions kept arising
A certain need for smth, maybe pulling and pushing
Incarnating sometimes
Things happening, annoying people
Who think they know it all
Fighting life
A repetition of old stuff
Talking much words,
A sort of useless practice of speaking
Superficial, ugly, endless maddening, unconscious

Find hard to be, no self – in the bad sense
A certain substance, maybe luminous
Descends sometimes, it’s a weird thing
Reeks of disease
Mind stops but wants to create great tension and snap strings
Woman is psychological
Pleasure, routine, ignorance, ego
Nothing moves in the slightest
There’s no peace is no heart
Only unhappiness and madness