Our acts aren't the result of our free will
They are simply pretty and foolish efforts
Elapsing between two moments of stasis
With the unque and intention
Of making the waiting less tedious and painful
Only a few instants are truly intense
Like the moment when you land
A blow after an asphyxiating and breathless concentration
And the blow will allow you to free your most precious vital space
Till now oppressed corrupted and seriously endangered
By the nimblest intruder
Aware and heedless of his disengaged final condition
We are strangely attracted by the moments' changes
More or less curious, indeed, we react to climatic events
No one can know, better then us, that we avoid
Absorbing that tinkling element by being ready
To protect our wretched ego with phoney and fake
Portable barriers, charged with visible
Radiations only without any seeming aim
Affective games seems to be an interesting communication matter
Although we try and retry to disown this emotional appendix
We are enraptured and nervously tossed in another
Logic of mind with the only goal to cloud
And to remove from us the coveted disengaged final condition