I feast inappropriatelyand postpone working daysenslaved by constantDigital Surveillanceday by day. More working lies growlike lilacs out of the dead.This life has been a textand its ashesare being grown.Something literaryarises like massive waves and the sunken shipsomehow finds its way.I find each morning musicalthe night feels as if no sleepneeds to be unembraced.Is it a happiness risingor a cursed agewhere […]Read Post ›