Wounds in the landscape (Salon de Provence, near the Mediteranean sea)

Brain 
Wrapped up
in nebulous
Limbos

Waves crashing
Against
The rocky island

A phone call
A happy feeling 

A sudden 
Nausa
Of
Awakening

Truth

Words
Floating
Excavated
As blinding as
A crypted chanel

A world to decipher

To understand

To wake up to

On the edge of
A nightmare

A mosaïc of blurred 
Betrayal

A landscape
Keeping me
At distance

Ground 
Slipping 
Under my feet

The tearing burden
Of darkness

The frame
Of exclusion

Silenced
Muted

Swallowed
By your roads

Already far
So far
So near

Side by side 
There

Now I can see
The erased
Truth

The skilfull
Dissimulation

Here
I stand
Spaceless
Homeless
Erased

Out of the frame

Silenced
Thrown aboard
Unwanted 

Stopped
before 
It is too late

Before any
possible movement
Before any
Possible thought

Mind
Diverted
On another path
Maintained
In an inoffensive space

Far away
Far enough


Far from the long hours
Of driving
Far from the plane 
Landing on
The island
From the blue wildnerness
Of the southern sea
From the adventurous
Rides on the winding roads
Far from the fresh air

Far from the rocks
And the sun
And the wind
And the stormy skies

Choking
Is your fate
Eyes wide opened

The nights
Side by side
The long lying nights
Stretching their dark wings 
Of merciless truth

A deathly venom
Injected in my veins
Daily
Nightly
Intansigently

Not me

Me
Nameless
Standing
Ghostly
Just
A hush
A 
Silence
A darkness
An 
Invisibility