images, images, images

all around me are images

is this all i’m created for?

is this all that i’m made for?

a spy, a gun, a fight, a « Run! »

the good ones have always won.

and me? is this all that i’m good for?

not wanting to exist

out of nowhere, into my head

accompanies me ‘till the end

so if i walk by you today,

please get out of my way

i am the embodiment of a ghost

that you can’t touch, see or hear

whoever, whenever, wherever you are

a friend, a colleague, a mother, a father

don’t look at me, don’t touch me

let me cease to exist, just for today

for death is not what i want

i want to be a thought, a ghost,

leave my skin, or better yet,

i want to never have been.

images images, images

a certain hunger

an interminable thirst

invades my body and mind.

i need my images

i need them until i find

what i needed to find

what it was i forgot.

my brain’s deterioration

is deterrent, determined

its extermination

is quick and quiet,

loud and violent.

love, sex, war, chaos, fights, drugs

one say « we must do something! »

another: « let’s go and do anything! »

while i’m lying here, watching,

dumb, numb and rotting,

simply not existing.

tick tack tick tack tick tick

tick tick boom!

my mind is a time bomb

let me go back to my room

images, images, images

images everywhere, everywhere images

images of cats, images of dogs,

images of beautiful women and beautiful men

images of love, images of death

everywhere there are images,

images are the bane of my existence

inertia is my middle name

ineradicable, inevitable

trust me when i say

i’m not neurotic.

static, static, static

this is how it’ll be

“to be or not to be?”

i choose to not be

or is it really a choice for me?

Is it the same for thee?

today, i choose to stay

stay in my house, stay in my bed

believe me, my dear friend,

it’s not that hard to play dead.

for what does it really mean

to be dead, or alive?

are any of us alive?

do any of us choose

rotting away in our abuse?

tell me what to do, where to go

for i am nothing if not a puppet

pop pop pop pop puppet

up, down, down and up

left, left, left and right.

a hypnotist puts me in a trance

trance, trance, trance

like a moth to the flame

i’m willingly playing its game

a deer in headlights

a bull in bullfights

i am nothing but a name.

a silent voice in my head

creeps into my bed

asks me cautiously

is this what you want

to do with your life?

to that, I respond by

rotting away in my

meaningless existence.

images, images, images

don’t take away my images;

for images are the cure for my

miserable existence.