The tiles of the floor smell like a disinfectant,

The ceiling of the room looks like a disaster,

The lights on the walls give no shadows,

The beds on the ward feel like caskets,

I hear echoes,

I listen to cries,

I see tears,

I smell blood,

I sense fear,

I stop shouting;

The buzz of the pager won’t stop beeping,

The nuisance in the room won’t stop growing,

There are drugs on the floor,

There is sweat on the palms,

There are cracks on the windows,

There is suffocation in the building.


The lines on my hands are speaking to the stars,

The horoscopes of the moons are lying to my face,

The fortune-teller is chanting a tale so epic,

That even Venus is hiding away from the skies,

The cosmos of the milky way, the galaxies of the multiverse,

They tell me a lie and feed me with details:

My existence is nothing but a speck;

Not in this world but also in your deck.


The art on my heart gives me time,

To think about my life with all my might;

You were on your garden, flying your kite,

I was on the streets, up all night,

You kissed my cheeks good bye,

You left me on the ocean to die,

You payed no heed to my cries,

I was on the verge of breaking,

I was on the edge of drowning,

You pleased my sorrow with the whispers of your tongue,

You made me believe in the exorcism of love,

Travel thy own road o you hater!

For, I’m a twirling dervish in my white cloak,

I chant the words of God to entrance my soul,

There’s no going back,

There’s no going back.