I did MDMA. I remember the young girls when I was a teenager.
I was too shy to dance, too interested to go home.
Now I feel my age--on the cheek of the theory of the man-child, a tear rolls down, going nowhere.
A dead silence. A white hole occupies the center of my life.
Rays of sunlight whirling around on the stairs.
The sun is asleep; the afternoon is invariable.
Metallic reflections in the sand.
A stir in the moist and not very mobile air,
I can hear female insects crossing paths.
I want to kill myself, join a sect ;
I want to make a move, but it would be useless.
In 5 hours at the latest the sky will be all black ;
I'll wait for morning crushing flies on my computer keyboard.
Darkness simmers like a million little mouths ;
And morning returns, white and dry, without hope.