Much, too much inactivity
Stay in bed, sleep, eat, repeat.
AHHHHH ! NO ! Stop it he said.
Produce, document, spit in a notebook.
Right now : the metro movin’ forward, people lookin’ strange.
They’re dark, real dark, almost grey. On the edge of transparence, invisible.
They don’t exist. An illusion, a human illusion.
Me alone, writin’ non-sense on this paper getting slowly drowned by the blue ink. Blue is beautiful, isnt’it ?
Blue, like Chet Baker blues songs
Blue like Klein (
Calvin Yves ) who once said « blu blu blu !» in front of his intense obsessive blue canvas
Blue like when a fish is drownin’ in the ocean and screams « blu blu blu »
Blue like the expression « to catch the blues »
.. At night, once the sun fall asleep and the moon grow in the sky I feel blue.
But now brother , I’m in this metro and I can’t see no moon. 6 feet beneath the ground, there’s just black ants and grey rocks.