This necessarily is going to happen.
We want to, already.
You don’t know why… but you want it anyway.
You can’t pretend that you’re not.
But you do.
Actually, all the time.
Except for those little moments.
Those in which you weren't even you.
It’s someone else, talking through your lips.
Then you realize: yes, it’s me.
There's someone else talking?
I’m kind of quiet now.
Always I’ve been.
Why do you ask me these questions?
You’re only driving me crazy.
You know that?
At least crazier than before.
But there’s only a before.
There’s no now.
Anyway, you felt it.
Can you feel it now?
Is not love, neither hate.
What is it, then?
Can you hear it?
It’s close.
It’s warm.
It’s nothing.
But it’s there.
And you don’t want to get rid of it.
Cause it’s a piece of you.
Like your hands.
Like your legs, your eyes.
Like the sky.
Like this bright, wide, white sealing.
Jumping on me, and then, over you.
It's a flea in my conscience.
It’s a crumb of bread in my teeth.
It’s a bridge between two sides of a river.
Always an option to escape.
Not an option, really.
Not that ordinary freedom.
Not that popular free will.
Just a little pinprick.
And then… quiet again.
I prefer myself with my clothes on.
Thanks for asking.
Besides… what was that?
That thing outside the window.
Was that a dove?
A big butterfly, a bat?
A shadow, a dream?
Or what?
I’m not sure of anything anymore.
Never was.
But there’s something for sure:
You’re talking with me.
Right now.
I can’t be a paranoid. An “squizo”.
Why don’t you ever talk to me?
Are you there, really?
Answer me, dammit!
O. K.
No problem here.
Maybe you’re mute.
Or I’m deaf.
We’ll never know it with certainty.
I’m kind of thirsty right now.
And hungry.
I got an itch in the back.
And my nose is dropping.
Why I can't move my arms?
Do I have arms?
Where are they?
What’s this?
Wings?
Heads?
Fire?
A thousand universes?
No. Just me.
Me laying on you.
With all my heart.
On this flat bed.
In this white room.
Full of hopes and desires.
And walls.
And space.
Did I mention the walls?
No, I didn’t.
Did I mention the ringing bells?
Did I mention the endless fields?
Did I mention the amazing words?
Yes, I did.
And you know it.
Don’t you?
Yes, you do.
I know you do.
I always know.
It can’t even change.
Like the fact of blue ocean.
The fact of sweet honey.
The fact of red sunset.
The fact of facts.
The fact itself.
That’s a fact.
What else?
I don’t know.
I don’t know?
Do you ever wonder?
I mean, wonder. Anything.
I only smoke at the mouth.
And spit through it, too.
It got two functions.
And a lot more.
Is that an error?
Or instead, a blessing?
Who knows?
Oh, yeah… I forgot.
You always know.
You know everything.
Just like me.
With one tiny difference:
You really know.
I’m just guessing. All the time.
But… guess what?
I’m fine.
That’s why.
That’s why it was necessary.
And it happened.
Just as I said it to you before.
Just as you will say it to me after.
You know what?
I guess I’d better shut up.
You don’t know why… but you want it anyway.
You can’t pretend that you’re not.
But you do.
Actually, all the time.
Except for those little moments.
Those in which you weren't even you.
It’s someone else, talking through your lips.
Then you realize: yes, it’s me.
There's someone else talking?
I’m kind of quiet now.
Always I’ve been.
Why do you ask me these questions?
You’re only driving me crazy.
You know that?
At least crazier than before.
But there’s only a before.
There’s no now.
Anyway, you felt it.
Can you feel it now?
Is not love, neither hate.
What is it, then?
Can you hear it?
It’s close.
It’s warm.
It’s nothing.
But it’s there.
And you don’t want to get rid of it.
Cause it’s a piece of you.
Like your hands.
Like your legs, your eyes.
Like the sky.
Like this bright, wide, white sealing.
Jumping on me, and then, over you.
It's a flea in my conscience.
It’s a crumb of bread in my teeth.
It’s a bridge between two sides of a river.
Always an option to escape.
Not an option, really.
Not that ordinary freedom.
Not that popular free will.
Just a little pinprick.
And then… quiet again.
I prefer myself with my clothes on.
Thanks for asking.
Besides… what was that?
That thing outside the window.
Was that a dove?
A big butterfly, a bat?
A shadow, a dream?
Or what?
I’m not sure of anything anymore.
Never was.
But there’s something for sure:
You’re talking with me.
Right now.
I can’t be a paranoid. An “squizo”.
Why don’t you ever talk to me?
Are you there, really?
Answer me, dammit!
O. K.
No problem here.
Maybe you’re mute.
Or I’m deaf.
We’ll never know it with certainty.
I’m kind of thirsty right now.
And hungry.
I got an itch in the back.
And my nose is dropping.
Why I can't move my arms?
Do I have arms?
Where are they?
What’s this?
Wings?
Heads?
Fire?
A thousand universes?
No. Just me.
Me laying on you.
With all my heart.
On this flat bed.
In this white room.
Full of hopes and desires.
And walls.
And space.
Did I mention the walls?
No, I didn’t.
Did I mention the ringing bells?
Did I mention the endless fields?
Did I mention the amazing words?
Yes, I did.
And you know it.
Don’t you?
Yes, you do.
I know you do.
I always know.
It can’t even change.
Like the fact of blue ocean.
The fact of sweet honey.
The fact of red sunset.
The fact of facts.
The fact itself.
That’s a fact.
What else?
I don’t know.
I don’t know?
Do you ever wonder?
I mean, wonder. Anything.
I only smoke at the mouth.
And spit through it, too.
It got two functions.
And a lot more.
Is that an error?
Or instead, a blessing?
Who knows?
Oh, yeah… I forgot.
You always know.
You know everything.
Just like me.
With one tiny difference:
You really know.
I’m just guessing. All the time.
But… guess what?
I’m fine.
That’s why.
That’s why it was necessary.
And it happened.
Just as I said it to you before.
Just as you will say it to me after.
You know what?
I guess I’d better shut up.
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