The Mushroom Diarrhoea

I cross the mountains, I plane
I let myself glide over the breeze
slowly, grazing the woods – and you’ll let me go
I jump down the stairwell, but the fall is soft
then I run away, free, untouchable
protected by spores.

Back to the parallel floor I’m a psychosomatic prey
the more I think negative the more my life fades
here on the shittiest train or queued up in some gloomy office
drugged by sex or TV serials –
bored by the umpteenth useless chat
just to see her once more under my balls.
Watch me as I suffocate in these old trivial thoughts
subjected to human heaviness, absorbed by this halo of social failure.
Drowning among the crowd I feel an impulse of death
though sadly aware that it’s me the one getting progressively fucked.

Another bolivian guerrilla
piling up corpses of rich drug-dealers' wives
reduced to pieces by my unstoppable machete
– a private apocalypse of rapes and blood
then serbian freedom-fighter torturing a yankee pilot
fallen with his “invisible” bomber right on my Orthodox Church

Back to the parallel floor I’m a psychosomatic prey
as paranoias increase the spores die away
here on the shittiest train or queued up in some gloomy office
drugged by sex or TV serials –
bored by the umpteenth useless chat
just to see her once more under my balls.
Watch me as I suffocate in these old trivial thoughts
subjected to human heaviness, absorbed by this halo of social failure.
Drowning among the crowd I feel an impulse of death
though sadly aware that it’s me the one getting progressively fucked.

People’s extinction comes true only in a non-synchronized planet
that roams in the universe,
the universe behind my eyes.