What a strange feeling, but what a liberation!
To anticipate and plan a departure with no return
Without fearing the slightest danger
Or the slightest pang of heartache
The thought of saying to oneself, "I'm leaving a whole world behind"
A world that shaped me
Just to destroy me
So much so that my only chance at happiness
Is that of leaving
Me, who writes my grocery lists
As I write poetry
I don't see beauty.
Only in self-love
I don't belong here.
In countries of self-hatred
I will leave with my hair blowing in the wind.
Like my sails swelling
As far as the Levant countries
I will do what is necessary to leave
Leaving well, but leaving without picking up the pieces
This mess in which this system created me
Then reduced to crumbs
Which I proudly call Messy Erzast
I'm abandoning all these people
Friends, family, doctors and turds
All those who claimed to help me
By playing the administrator who is short on rations
When I needed soldiers
Or at the very least, fanatics
To carry out this revolution
But since I can't hear the crowd
Drowned in the orchestral cacophony
So, I play the fugue
As a free rider in the Americas
Free rider riding across the ocean
Turning into gay Che
Boar of the old continent
Who will shout at the top of their lungs:
"What about us?"
Yes, yes…
And so strong
That I will awaken even the smallest of the great ones on Earth
And all those poor people who hide their power
Hidden so well that they lost their minds
To wake them up
To treat them
I will waltz with death
Saying to him, "Come
But don't come when I'm alone.
And we will waltz with the wind.
Until the scythe in my heart
I can stab him in the back
To kill death
To kill her on stage
Shot by the stares of the room
Thrilled to see live
To perish at the end of their days
And I'll leave with death in my bag.
To find my new beginning
My sail filled with a new wind
& winter disappeared
And who, just like me
We're not even looking
And only freed from these slumbering automatons
Would I see the Sun for the first time?
Will I be born at the same time as the first day?
In light of this new fire
We will finally be able to reread poetry
By the choir that did not see him born
Only through the mother's cry of pain
And didn't notice her smile
Before we hit him
To expel the waters
From its respiratory system
(Her tears for her first departure)
As he is born, a laughter machine
We teach him to cry
To ruin one's life
As if having to have it
Is that not punishment enough?
And I will give as my entire inheritance
To this inhumanity
All my debts financing a new beginning
Where after the diktat
To bear fruit and multiply
May we finally divide ourselves
To devour the half-moldy fruit
Who sleep in piles in tax havens
And it will be a new beginning
In our own permitted paradises
& not just to the sons
& this paradise delivered
I will find a way again
To build my own there
In a perfect example of mise en abyme
The first one that doesn't damage
And finally, a place where it's allowed
Because for once
& for the final departure
We no longer need a god.
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