Where The Wound Lies (2016)

To speak of the wound in times of terror. The place of the wound is unimaginable, and the times are of misery. The images do not translate an end but only the proof of their existence. The time of the photographs is later than the end. Nothing left to see, if not the decay in an eternal return.

within the fall and the break,
a catastrophic truth spreads,
the prelude to others still

a missing lamp
like a laceration on the skin
a shout
I want the best coke

and the cocaine blows from my hands

fingertips upraised
and the misery show begins
(a man doesn’t own his pain.
where there is flesh and bone
there’s revulsion.)

everything crumbles,
where the wound lies,
and there is no talk, no tale
in the corrosive silence
a once constructed memory

we call to the city life,
in euphoric gesticulations

we tell the world

( you’ll lose it if you talk about it)


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