Combustible Wrath







To which waterfall will I have to give myself up
For the fire to be engulfed?
The eruptions are rare, the lava is numb
Only a strange irritation cements my jaws
The idea of a tale
calcinated by its own impropriety

The bowels ensure their punctual comings and goings
But under them crunches the shear of the fangs
There are some immeasurable errors over time
Some inconclusive aberrations
Except the oblivion

But what oblivion when where the forgotten memory is revived
Is the very place of the affronts?
A rebirth in the furnaces of wrongs
The Cosa Nostra of the upside down dignity
And the suspension of time

Shall the scale of a new adventure be the nitrogen of this flame
Slowly erases itself from its necessity
Shall an other forgets in my place what is ignifiable for me
The baroque outrages and the outrecuidances
The flame of the soldier of unknown promises

Shall an other step resonate at the entrance of this second-rate hell
Where the lead soles of lies hammer
The despises and the impossible mourning of retaliation
Shall an other for who he is
Release inside of me the wet jets of ignorance

At last, the warm jets too





February 2016