Anticlimax

'To feel the colour of darkness

Caressed by this freezing breeze... Nooo!'

No reflections from a waterpool

Will feed allucinations

Art is left to burn on the stake

To bestow life into the highest form

Experience

When meaning is no more possible

A different form, it is needed

The higher level of perception:

The unspeakable!

To be dead in an empty page

ANTICLIMAX

The negative utopia

No metaphor will heal

The crisis of words

Which makes the mind ask for more

When words repeat themselves.

...to eternity

And meaning is no more possible

A different form, it is needed

The higher level of perception:

The unspeakable!

To be DEATH in an empty page

ANTICLIMAX

The negative utopia of art.

Still to be written