Malvery

Those delirious ideas of mine that always adores me
Cannot come from outside
My head is an expanse of spite
From which the tributaries of my torrents have
Disappeared
Images so coveted when they come to me
I would like my mirage to take me
Far away, where everything is extinguished
Far from the endless days
A place where time itself is altered
And who, where checks and neutralizes itself
And dries my thoughts into a desert of obsession
It tarnishes the colours of successive centuries