written on novembre 15th 2004:
Where do you wash your dreams
When the colours have bleached out
And you do not remember the taste of the morning.
Where do you find your words
When your mind hurts so badly
That it kills all living sound in your soul
How does your life taste
In the bitter morning of loneliness
Like cheap noodles and cold coffee.
What are you waiting for
Even the echo of voices is gone
And only your madness answers now.
Where do you wash your hands
When they have strangled your dreams
To lifeless, grey dust, refused by the spiders.