poetry slavery

It's almost seditious

to think

the moment now

and here should not

be written down.

Like if our senses would 

l a s t, outlive our 

memories. 

Nobody cares about

beauty of the brain if

you can modell cheek, grimace
face.

Seconds flee

jealous of these who

which have been taken

a slave.

It's almost seditious

to think

with our knowledge

as bright as wide

we would remember anything

and everything

but nothing at all.