What do you know of fear, madness, death and pain, you who could only flee or be subjugated and so rarely had the audacity to overcome these and make them allies?
What do you know of a sound mind, you who insolently claim normality while your business has for sole purpose the comfort of your convictions, to the expense of becoming inaudible to yourself and deaf to everything that could sway the illusion of your consistency?
You think you know of yourself? You only possess an idea of ​​yourself, this jumble of references and comparisons with fashionable values, as precarious as the idea of ​​your salvation.
Your idea of eternity is an unfortunate cynical pose from which you would like to find solace in the mire of your cowardice.
Your idea of happiness is a dildo relentlessly polished so to reflect your grotesque bliss.
And ironically one allows you the right to elect!

Blinded by your belief in being honest you become a passive accomplice of the worst human atrocities.
The parsimonious generosity of your time, of your money, of your ideas and of your affection, distributed only where nestles your own interests, contributes to the perpetual rape of this vast world from which so much wealth yet is to be shared.