Newest confession

Born. Still living, but not confessing. Holding an old paper, praying and staring at the sky as blue sheeps pass by. A hand on his heart and the other one near his leg. He fails and falls on his knees. It´s stronger than him. A vision of the Future makes him think. Makes him wonder why.


A strike on the bell. A bicicle and a pawn. They meet and vanish. My horizon is unknown. Is Black. All black. My hand shakes as I am obliged to tell a lie. The opposite of truth. I do not confess.


And my right hand shakes
And my left harm is hurting very bad