All these bodies

What do they have to do

with their names?

All these names

What ever is their relationships

with their bodies?

Dying is a matter of decency

Living is a priority

I'm floating below the ceiling lamp

My body is just a precaution;

light, slender, tight,

of any age I choose:

Magnificent mechanics,

brain cells browsing

Time just a way to make room

I'm fabulously easy to operate;

light & responsive

I rose into this warm energy,

without enjoying blood & flesh one bit

It was a way to partake

in this once in a universe carnage,

balancing on the tip of my pen;

the ink a succession of memories dripping off

down the page,

each thought sprinkled like semen

Self evidence contains a large number of steel cubes

placed in a complex order

Love is a cold set of facts that no one respects,

everybody obeys