I scratched a word on the window
for the simple fact that I thought
I could escape my mind,
and as reward, a piece of glass
stabbed my ears

I couldn’t talk, I couldn’t hear

I felt asleep under a book;
when I woke up, the blood from my veins
had vanished, leaving behind just tracks …
words with no sense,
words with no connection –
it was like a puzzle.

The wolves of my consciousness
were roaring for food,
the noise was so harsh,
that I had to feed them with words …

My last words were done,
I remained a poor man
But, to save my life, I gave them
the books from my library

Now, it’s just me with the wolves …
breathing the same time, the same space,
and sensing – two different dimensions!