Zywa
Turbulence
I watch, take a grab
of the facts, rearrange the booty
to body's own and the world
constructions of fragments
of reality and myself, the truth
of my existence, my who I am:
turbulent clouds
in my sleep
and reckless pilots
of medicinal substances
that play with me
throwing me back and forth
through the hell
they mold out of my life
and I can only watch
Sometimes they also fly by day --
from my very own memory
I am thought by foreign substances
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