Delirium Tremens

Passions and obsessions: lyrical synonims.
Biochemical synonims.
Women like to drink from the niveous cup
Of straitjackets.
They dance in ethanol tunics
(embedded in amate)
In the tongue of the world:
In the sound runic
Of the goddesses of old.
 
Literature likes to play hopscotch;
Conjures forest-mirrors fractured,
Jumps of children, reeds of June.
 
Music likes to transform notes into stopclocks.
To give shoes to the wind.
To give humanity to humans with a tune.
 
Everything can become obsession.
If the arches of leisure are well drawn,
Galatea will revive from her dream of stone,
We will be able to cross lakes by lotus,
Mordred will take his throne.
 
But behold the phrase of the thousand voices:
Love destroys.
It offers you, with ploy,
Two atrocious and delicious cups.
And you’ll always drink both choices.
Both will feel like morphine at the beginning,
But at the end both were poison:
That’s why passion consumes so fast…
We mistake blatantly dizzy head spinning
With love instead of poison,
We are stroked aghast.
 
Abstinence becomes tremor. Cliff.
Persecution… creed.
The small letter in the contract of the world,
Glyph.
At the end of the day, delirium
Is for mirages the genesis serum.
Everything will be unveiled:
The Masks of the pagan gods,
The lies inhaled,
The sirens clawed.
All the cute stupid tumbles along the road.