Be distracted along the way,

from the window look only at your reflection,

don’t focus on any detail,

not on the faces not on the walls

look for things that aren’t obvious right now,

chase away the people you see along your shadow,

nothing separates you and the floor

open the lock put the envelopes on the table,

disinfect everything disinfect everything

do not let in any natural or artificial light,

  seal the impurity, the outside,

avoid the road, you can’t control anything on the road

wall the windows

Electrical tape over each slot

Each window overlooks closets

Called “squares”,

blind your world,

put bandages on the wishes and make them bump into each other

make a fire, try not to produce light that is minimally natural,

use light bulbs, pack your bags, to leave outside the house

hands don’t create don’t destroy,

don’t contemplate real people in your life,

make them fading away as you did with yourself

just think of superheroes, Mickey Mouse and Duckburg

you don’t need life you don’t need stairs you don’t need gates,

all you need are small routines to photocopy

liturgies to chase in the mirror, sift through each photo

whitens the portraits desertifies the people around you,

store your nails in a jar

take care of every detail of the apocalypse

there’s a conclave in the living room, I think they want to make you a saint but they won’t succeed,

try to be profane but never vulgar,

stack the objects that most oppress you in the bedroom, fix them,

while they stare at you,

feed the fire,

make sure the flame does not illuminate,

  all set turn on each screen

walled up alive accompanied by your fake wife

leaves only a loophole for home deliveries

prepare some fake ropes where you will hold on

  when the floor is impassable,

because the Turks are coming back

decorate your home like a provincial station

do not give the idea that trains and passengers can pass through there

tear your limbs apart with boredom,

waste your energy,

bother yourself,

look at yourself so much in the mirror until you disappear

at the end of the roundabout you will find an old woman and a child in the living room

do ignore them,

play on the pc until you lose memory of the roads travelled

settling for life out there is the worst defeat,

leave no trace of you

disinfect, disinfect everything

realize your absence –

Francesco Tardio (Italy, 2000) – translated from Italian by #slowwords

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