What the fuck is going on in my head,
with the synchronicity all fucked up
and not knowing —not only what to say,
but what am I perceiving?
What is happening to me
when I become an echo of someone
and I’m echoing myself in the rest?
What trip am I on?
The trip of being me.
The bad trip triggered when I start thinking
"it’s going to be like this forever
and worse: it has always been this way.”
So what is up in this right moment
in which I’m useless, an unfamiliar face,
a pile of common sense
with nothing new to say?
I could bear this moment if only,
and only, you say you’ll take my stuff,
say you made it and sell it. Digest me.
It’s not a lot but it’s what I made.
I’ve been consuming natural resources
for almost 30 years. I’ve eaten so many
oranges and chickens. Do you know
how much water takes to breed a chicken?
Four thousand liters each one.
So it’s not fair towards the world
to just fuck off and die;
I have to leave something behind me.