It is when darkness becomes an inseparable friend, and a rotten story rules, and words become frivolous, crummy and piteous, not being listened to as if they'd never been said, sounding like they’re coming out of a mouth, not a brain, coming out and only because they’re useful, powerful and undefeatable, not because they’re real nor true, not even needing to be said nor heard!
when racing around the same circle becomes a routine, a duty, all the spots and all the scenes are familiar, are the same; they’re standing still, frozen in time forever, my ever! They’re not so unintelligible as to be misunderstood, and you are not so esoteric as to be an immortally unanswered question. You become who you really are, an empty page, conspicuously legible, and nothing is left in you to quench my thirst, like an unfilled hollowed glass, neat as a pin.
When desire and lust rule over the deep inside of my self, which said, and kept saying constantly and repeatedly no, no, all the time no.
And When the trace that you mightily wanted to leave vanishes away from the scene, and the you that you've never been, evanesces in the wind. When the whole picture turns out to be just a bunch of frozen things, in a very feckless unimportant moment.
A uniquely built character in the story collapses and becomes as unscrupulously conventional as the rest. And I once again become as lonely and desperate as I was once upon a time!