I looked at the pale face
that face that doesn’t exist
neither alive nor dead
but inhabits the space of one who is no more
It was a nightmare that inhabited me
and suddenly it became flesh
it started to walk, it breathed the need
Death is not an end
it’s not even a rest
It is the continuity of absence
that insists on showing itself

And I saw those bodies
they didn’t know what they were doing
they didn’t know they had already left
Living is perhaps this lie
of believing ourselves alive
of calling ourselves dead
when looking at the reflection

And the world kept spinning
unaware of its own eternity
I walked
but didn’t know if I was going
or coming back