Omelet breakfast

Trickles of heatwave sweat

Drops flow in engraved tunnels on the

Face side limping

Fever they say

Got hold of my soul

Made me a wild beast

Hundreds of voices in my head

Images flicker behind my retina

Colouring my iris

Wake up! I order myself

Dragging my dead corpse




Late afternoon in

Half empty cafe

Playing nostalgic songs

I know but don’t remember the


Omelette I ordered

I eat in silence although

Tempted to sing along





Leaves me


July 27, 2019

About alaindesade

Novelist, songwriter and philosopher. Has special interest in human relations, evolution of mind, inter-cultural complications, and the concept of God.
This entry was posted in c’est la vie and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s