Who I am? And you?

Human, it would seem. Inhabiting an infinite space where weightlessness keeps me on the surface of what my fellow creatures call earth.

I walk through this upside-down galaxy as incongruously as my next-door neighbour. The book on the bedside table. I'm learning to read. My eyes translate the reflection of the light on the shadows cast on what seem to me to be objects; exhibition subjects of sarcastic research. Translating this language that is as disjointed as it is poignant. Stabbing the death of the abscess, the colours touch each other, collide in the common space.

Humans of chaos filling up with what they call food on 
their distant planet. The river descends to the edge of the 
constellations. Wandering between mounts and evils, waves and traumas. 
Volcanoes erupt, tectonic plates overlap by the fireside. The portal gate is open, sucked into the vortex. 
They live in the dream of consumerism carried by the materialist tangle of this accumulation of poetry. 
Superimposed emptiness.

zoey