1

The shattered world is stuck into you, you are the shattered world.

                                                                    Debris mirroring debris.

Searching for a country where you could embrace your body.

 Accept it. Trying to find a city in which you can tell your thoughts

they are merely thoughts.                       Be.

Always trying to forget something that speaks instead of you.

One cannot run away from the broken world — a volcano's deadly

eruption. One can never flee from a strict and righteous

parent within their mind, a judge, an absent

torturer.

2

A shattered world broke inside you, you are the broken world,

                                                                                               debris healing debris.

Asking for some quiet in a whirlwind of an inquietude,

going to places where silence is smouldering, straight

to a storm of unrest,

abandoned and distraught pulsating,

vibrating, migrating.

3

If only all one is trying to escape had not eventually gone more powerful,

it would've been possible                                  to run.

Away from that shattered world within. Pulsating, where silence is smouldering.

Migrating, not knowing the language that surrounds her,

                                                                           vibrating,

a tender ear in which a bulging word can fit. The word then utterly

forgotten, a whirlwind of unrest.

The word that, therefore, shall never be

 exchanged.

4

We never confess: confession is the worst addiction,

it strangles the human in you, the human in those who listen.

In our hands we hold the shadow of our hands: disobedient

                                                                                                   anchors.