The Mushroom Diarrhoea

I cross the mountains, I plane I let myself glide over the breeze slowly, grazing the woods – and you’ll let me go I jump down the stairwell, but the fall is soft then I run away, free, untouchable protected by spores. Back to the parallel floor I’m a psychosomatic prey the more I think negative the more my life fades here on the shittiest train or queued up in some gloomy office drugged by sex or TV serials – bored by the umpteenth useless chat just to see her once more under my balls. Watch me as I suffocate in these old trivial thoughts subjected to human heaviness, absorbed by this halo of social failure. Drowning among the crowd I feel an impulse of death though sadly aware that it’s me the one getting progressively fucked. Another bolivian guerrilla piling up corpses of rich drug-dealers' wives reduced to pieces by my unstoppable machete – a private apocalypse of rapes and blood then serbian freedom-fighter torturing a yankee pilot fallen with his “invisible” bomber right on my Orthodox Church Back to the parallel floor I’m a psychosomatic prey as paranoias increase the spores die away here on the shittiest train or queued up in some gloomy office drugged by sex or TV serials – bored by the umpteenth useless chat just to see her once more under my balls. Watch me as I suffocate in these old trivial thoughts subjected to human heaviness, absorbed by this halo of social failure. Drowning among the crowd I feel an impulse of death though sadly aware that it’s me the one getting progressively fucked. People’s extinction comes true only in a non-synchronized planet that roams in the universe, the universe behind my eyes.