Exorcism to Chaos

"Along the street death walks... crowned
 Crowned with withered orange flowers,
 And it sings, sings, a song
 With its white guitar."

 ...And it sings, sings... 
 Would you mind if I die? 
 I write about sensations, moods and apparitions, 
 while people give parties to cover the silence. 
 There is no sense in feeling remorse for a thing you could not control. 
 And death sings, sings... 
 Would you mind if I die? 
 What did you want when you continued to ask? 
 My energies must be direct to an act. 
 I continually research a sure channel to address my emotive contradictions. 
 I yearn they have a positive origin 
 Intolerant towards imperfection. 
 I practise a secret auto-therapy, 
 I practise... a personal and secret auto-therapy, 
 against the shame of publicly showing our own signs. 
 (memento audere semper)