no distance from sanity and being lost
no mirror in the reflection from steel pipes
the triangle of fate is without a path
‘chantal’ never the same
what remains is the bits of the mind
a moment of remembrance
in a storage box
breaking away from the barriers
I look for borders in the center
Who will look for me in the center
when the borders come to enlarge themselves
-Butta Love, the provocative verbalist
