There is nothing to give, and there is nothing to take. There is desire and then regret. Desire again and again regret. Always it starts again. We want, we want something, and then we don’t want it anymore. You turn right, you turn left, you walk back on your steps, you turn left, and you turn right again. But it was useless. We only walked in the city. We went in circles. We didn’t go anywhere. There is the desire, and there is the regret. There is the reflection that falls from the mirror without breaking. There is the exile, inside oneself. There is the absence of the one who died. There is the madness of the one who is in prison. There is the illness of the one who is going to die. I am in pain, I am in pain, and I am going to die… Help me! Help me as you can! I am in pain and I am going to die. There is the desire, there is the regret. There is pain, and there is madness. And there is madness. And there is madness. And there is madness… Madness in its cage, locked up like an animal. Madness speaks to itself. Madness talks to itself. Madness ate its own arm. Madness eats its own head. In the end, there is only a skull, and bones in the cage.
