No title (Esiliato's texts fragment.)

It is on occasions like this, looking kind of outside, kinda through the window, I see how all the dirt is settled and then removed a little, I imagine all of your atoms washed away by the pouring rain, taken away.

And then I offer a sigh for all the casualties of the war I've started… all the casualties of my existence if you want to call it that; I pronounce «existence» with a sort of french accent, that makes it sound as it should for me, closer to “resistance”, then I giggle with a sneer to that last thought of mine.

After releasing this word that claims for freedom out of my mind, out of my will, far from my private intent, I realize or feel as if I were disrespectful to those ones on the past, as if they were all present with envy, all the ones that came to be and are not anymore, and I offer one more sigh and another and so on, then I get distracted and carry on...

--- Let’s face one more century --- I say to myself
But a millennium is next to come.

Call it what you will,
the need of names
come for the ones
that have a use for them,
and I don't have a use for time.

Esiliato