Seeking the essence of existence Mix Fix
Can You Do Something Well Please? by Alessia Mancino
Can you do something well please? Without ever giving a real explanation, He says he is full of doubts, I think there is a lot of chaos One that makes an emotional rather than logical sense, The other day I was thinking that maybe building a puzzle might helpful One that can be understood with goosebumps Then I take the piece of ambition and heat it And with tears running backwards, they fall with milk
It melts and comes out of my vocal cords as I scream in a ghost voice I don’t know if it has ever happened to you to see so many things and you never do them
back into your eyes and make you see everything lucid, everything clear, transparent, obvious.
I have often heard that you can change your path in life I’ve been running a couple at a time for a few
years and I was wondering if in the end in the
You portray yourself as full of energy but then privacy of one’s own room one lives more in a
you waste it looking at everything from within
forest, in a lake, in a desert, in any expanse of choices made, things done, eyes looked at
And it seems like nothing ever comes out I identify you with what I see you doing and Of those streams still well dug the success you bring around, Full of arid land, waiting for water and waiting, Then I don’t know how many tears you cry
waiting, waiting, waiting
when the light goes out, the technicians go And they always tell themselves that maybe a home and you find yourself in an empty theater. good year will come The other day you laughed and told me that at twenty-five you can’t have an existential crisis. And then everything will flow,
With transparency, with joy, with desire. It’s the dragging of all those times I didn’t
know, I didn’t want, I got lazy
But also justifying everything I choose But also having too many bodies around But also always tripping over themselves
The crisis of existence. Your friend a few months ago told me that I
was not me.
So I wonder if the crisis is also of my essence. And what it means to move the way I move. In the end, if the body is the only thing we live in, can we ever really get lost in it? And how deep can such a crisis be?
67
