.
It's crazy
and his craze ligation soul
he clings to the earth, curtains
to exorcise the fire of his hallucinations
His eyes
away on the trails where porous
crudely infiltrate the fury of color
It's crazy
he has too much memory
old memories ... immortal ... incessant
he knows discard
It's crazy
he walks with the angels
in the cold ashes of a sky
and torrential rain which brainwash
Outside light
milky white
constellations available on the edge of the lips
he speaks and he is silent
he talks about the past, paths of childhood blue
that bread and drink of silence ...
one
related
(Watercolor: The crazy / Pablo Picasso)
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