Thoughts of soul and body

I have touched the edges of nowhere, and a horizonless weariness has taken possession of my being. I want oblivion, total silence. My dead hands are for the useful. Fourteen times I have supported my life in madness, and I have come out of myself. My song, utopia that begins in the pores of the night, lost track of dawn and clings to lights that give no rest. The streets where he could walk calmly were filled with storms. And today there is not a corner to mitigate the needs of the soul. Needs of distances, of trips without return. Of horizons that can cut the wind with their wings. I will knock on other doors, I will walk through new corridors. May they lead me to love, or to the full stillness of my body.