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Some of the things I wrote years ago were meant to be read in a certain sequence which would become increasingly complex.

You can also read some of that material below

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Il sait écouter l'enfant qu'il ne peut pas enfanter attendre son amour patiemment lui faire ressentir les premiers moments de nouveau lui effleurer la peau quand il faut et accepter ses changement voir l'avertissement dans sa coiffure qui change, l'alarme dans les larmes cuisinercoudrerepassermassermanierl'aspirateurbalaissemoifairet'asrienpigé tondre jardiner vider les poubelles et promener le chien ralentir et apprécier le paysage comprendre pourquoi ce sourire était forcé le regard terrorisé le message bloqué l'appel ignoré la voix sans émotion et les termes condescendants voir le respect dans la critique et le conseil dans l'ultimatum les défauts des amis qui sont des connaissances reconnaître ses influences imaginer des voyages statiques pour deux accepter de ne pas être indispensable tout comme les accessoires liquides gazeux carbureux graisseux sonores et olfactifs qu'il croyait magiques et omniviagrants, bricoleur du cœur il réparecollefixentroisecondes les décombres des pires conflits il écrit il lis il saisit le moment et lui laisse le sien se réfugie dans sa caverne pour la laisser dans son écrin il leur laisse le temps de réfléchir et ne leur force pas la main ne touche que si on l'a regardé comme ça sait écrire "non" sans "oui, peut-être" dedans ne prend pas de mômes en otage respecte sa signature ou refuse la bague s'il ne peut pas connaît les limites de ses pulsions et montre ses travers de coq quand elle poule drague ta copine pour te montrer que tu es jalouse et encore un peu amoureuse te présente ses amis avant 2 mois accepte tes absences t'appelle souvent t'aide à déplacer tes meubles et te suit au moins une fois par an dans les magasins te dis je ne comprends pas au lieu de oui te dit ce qu'il a fait avec elle te réalise un phantasme et en crée un nouveau se donne en promotionsoldesneratezpasl'occasion garde le sang froid et ses yeux brûlants lui dit qu'elle a grossi parce qu'elle a grossi l'aide à bouger ce qui a grossi me fait rire me donne envie de l'inviter de l'appeler de le voir sans elle de lui acheter du vin pour qu'il le serve à celle qui le rend fou me demande de l'aider à comprendre pourquoi elle se barre il garde un pied par terre et sort du bac à sable garde l'équilibre sur le fil de la passion et envoie ses priorités se faire voir pour deux beaux yeux peureux qui hurlent la terreur d'être seule avec des faiblesses de femme que tu as lyophilisé et que ses larmes vont gonfler à nouveau pour te montrer tes défauts à toi imbécile insouciant égoïste macho et superficiel toi et tes semblables handicapés de l'hormone homophobes gynophobes erotophobes dinerauxchandellophobes miroirophiles cravattophiles certitudophiles technophiles à couper le beurre sur lequel ils posent leurs fesses pas fermes pas rondes pas soignées ignorées tout comme le reste de ce corps ingrat inadapté à la procréation ou à ta propre nature qui a fait de toi un singe hurleur incapable de la protéger de lui caresser ses cheveux son visage son cou et ses épaules qui ont besoin de sentir cette moitié masculine en même temps que les deux autres moitiés de femme qui sont en lui, lui-même et sa mère qu'il saura mettre de côté, qu'il combattra comme vous, celles qui avez du combattre vos pères et oublier ceux qui ne l'étaient finalement pas et accepter celui qui ne le sera jamais car il t'a aidée à couper le cordon, à surmonter tes peurs à détruire ta fausse pudeur ta fausse modestie à diluer tes tabous en étant un mec, un vrai, avec ce qu'il faut de sensibilité pour entendre frémir ce corps de femme avec des oreilles de femme et le caresser avec des mains d'homme qui sait que toutes ces crèmes ces fioles ces pinceaux et accessoires ont une utilité pour trouver ceux qui sont tous forcément pris occupés territoirisés jalousés par ces autres filles forcément imparfaites pour lui forcément inadaptées à sa gentillesse, sa patience sa confiance sa radiance sa conscience d'être constamment perfectible, car cet homme est une femme qui n'existe pas.

when it all comes clear, when you gather all the experience and tears and rage that turned this heart into a hollow leaking diamond, when you learn the alphabet to read my eyes, when I appear as a precious rarity, when you forget my taste when you desire to feel the skin, just once, to see what it's like, when you realize where and when it begun, when you start seeing doubts and mistakes, when your boyfriend turns into a pig, when your pierced friend turns into a disappointment, when I tear open the scar and blind you with light, when the music shapes your emotions, when the diary I'm writing faces your indifference for the final round, when I steal your fears and hide them inside me, when you decide that you're in charge, when she tells you what chance you've missed, when you realise the power you released, when you go back into the chrysalis and try again, when you leave your pores thrill under the wind through the hair, when the head welcomes the hand, when the hour becomes too short, when the park makes you smile and look down, when my pain explodes into serenity, when you wish I was underneath, mute and asleep, when you call me for a fake reason, when you see me hiding the first tear, when you refuse to admit the limit, when you learn to feel instead of looking, when you open up my hand and look inside, when I fear your first word, when I ask you to pluck the hair in my ears, when I prove you that I couldn't do more without hurting you, when you read this and wish I was there, when I decide that it's all for you, when you turn me into a liquid, when I show you my land, when I clean my blood for you, when you tell me it's over, he left, when you seek my shoulder, when I tell you I knew it from the moment I fell, when you change your mind, when you wake up, when you become what you are inside, when you decide to let go, when you see why I don't eat, when they leave us alone, when I take you underwater, when you finally believe that it's possible, when you are completely wrong, when I bring you back to the surface, when I buy you more time, when I give you back your breath, when you see me carve shapes in smoke, when we hold on to the past, when he decides you're nothing else than another one, when she tells me how could you leave me and fall for her, when I tell you the answer I gave her, when he finally becomes my friend and tell him what you are, when I stop fathering you, when you let me help you grow, when I show you the stars of the south, when we warm each other in the freezing wind, when you open your way out of the nightmares, when we hit our foreheads, when he reads this and starts hating me, when I feel your near future and pretend I don't know, when you see through me and see yourself, when you decide to show me and you're proud, when you ask me anything, when I choke and see you as my last vision, when you are the first warned, when you dial 1 and get me, when I change mood and smile to you , when I'm not a daily event anymore, when you let me through, when I caress you with my eyelashes, when I deal with it, when you wait for me, when you wish you could go back and change everything, when I fail being just a friend, when your friends say I'm cool, whenever you smile at what I say, when I see through you and don't mention it, when you clean your blood, when you decide to face the truth, when I decide he doesn't deserve my wrath, when you bounce around me, when you finally understand that it's not a coincidence,

Mes genoux par terre, mes yeux éblouis, ma tête baissée, mon cœur explosé, mes mains espèrent. Mes royaumes conquis à tes pieds, fier de ces batailles, humble devant celle qui a vaincu, il a fallu que je m'efface, irradié par ta grâce. Aujourd'hui, rongé par le doute, je vois le marbre former la voûte et s'accumuler autour de toi. Toutes ces leçons oubliées, ces faiblesses triomphant des grands principes, le granit liquéfié, ces sentiments d'un millième type. Comprendre tout ça pour grandir d'avantage, pour devenir plus sage? Pas assez. Trop courant. Tellurique, tu effondres mon amour, jette les fragments de mon cœur dans le volcan de ma passion. Remodelés sous la pression en un cœur encore plus grand pour contenir une amitié de diamant en attendant que le temps, juge cruel et partial, te donne l'illumination. A toi, ces mots lourds et maladroits, ces lignes têtues et fragiles, à toi, mon amitié infinie et inconditionnelle, à toi cette pierre précieuse, à toi, belle silencieuse.

Une immersion profonde, verticale dans tes abysses m'a fait voir tes merveilles, tes dangers. Vue d'en haut tu es parfois calme, parfois houleuse, tu t'écrases violemment contre des récifs alors que tu caresses tendrement d'autres plages. Tu ignores tes limites, tous ces littoraux qui t'entourent. Tu traites sans pitié ceux qui veulent te naviguer, certains ont pu te traverser pour ensuite t'oublier, ancrés à leur terre retrouvée, assimilés par leur peur. Beaucoup d'autres, comme moi, ont naufragé. Pourtant, c'est à ce moment là que j'ai découvert tes courants cachés, tes changements d'humeur au gré des vents, ta géologie volcanique. Alors que ceux qui n'osent pas t'affronter pataugent dans tes zones peu profondes, j'ai admiré, dans tes cathédrales immergées, tes coraux et tes étoiles. Malgré les apnées mortelles et ton rejet de mon corps étranger, je laisserais mon âme se damner, pour pouvoir respirer dans le bleu de ton immensité.

Si tu pouvais te rendre compte
de combien je dois me mentir pour te survivre
combien je me mens quand tu me manques
combien je te mens quand tu ne me mens pas
combien ces mensonges sont ma réalité
quand la réalité me ment
Tu t'en rendras compte, et tu me mentiras
en me disant que tu m'en veux pas.
Car tu te mens constamment
et je te mentirais si je te disais
que cela ne m'ennuie guère.
En tant qu'amant
je ne t'ai pas menti
maintenant que je ne suis qu'un ami
je te dis tout
ce que je ne t'avais jamais dit.

L'amour, entre autres,
c'est entendre ce son
quand elle apparaît
parmi les amis connectés
et rester là hypnotisé
à regarder son prénom
en attendant un message,
un mot, un signe, une ponctuation,
une petite pression de clavier,
un soupir d'effleurement de clic,
n'importe quoi
pour ne pas se sentir oublié.

Tu vas bientôt trahir ma confiance
je le sens très fort.
Je t'en voudrais toute ma vie,
tout comme je t'en voudrais toujours
de m'avoir sous-estimé, mis de côté,
comme un accident surmonté.
Je voudrais ne plus y penser
mais je ne sais pas ce que je ressens
si ce n'est un mélange d'amour et de rage.
Je désire la fin de quelque chose
sorti du fond de mon côté le plus primaire
impossible à définir, sauf pour mes amis,
qui disent que je t'aime, tout simplement.
Je voudrais me déconnecter le cerveau
devenir bête et superficiel
ne plus avoir d'estime pour toi
ni de sentiments pour ton comportement.
Pourtant chaque minute qui passe
je la sens lente et aiguisée
Tu ne sais pas tout cela
et quand tu le sauras,
tu n'auras ni chaud ni froid
comment te faire vivre tout ça,
sans vengeance ni mésentente
comment me débarrasser de cette fierté?
A quoi bon se sentir fort comme un dieu
si la gardienne du temple
préfère le temple à côté...
A quoi bon être le gardien de ton temple
si ta divinité n'est que supercherie...
L'amour que j'ai pour toi
est devenu un poison lent.
résistant aux antidotes connus.
Tu ne mérites pas cette énergie
que d'autres me réclament.
Qui veut des échardes de mon cœur?
Qui veut des fleuves d'affection?
Qui détruira cette digue qui déborde?
Qui sera mon nouvel océan?

done before
done better
by a nicer person
nothing new
nothing to write home about
and even then
home wouldn't care
ordinary thoughts
things anyone would discard
boring also-ran
getting old and acting younger
losing grip with the promises made
holding tight to what remains
ha ha ha ha you don't really plan to show this do you?
it's heavy, pompous, who do you think you are?
And why show it to anyone in the first place?
you'll get no money
you'll get no recognition
no recognition
mama or papa were too busy?
ha, don't think so
they were cool
they let me be
why link to the past
this has been in me all the time
always drawn things
always wrote
always expressed something
what is it then?
why insist on doing this?
posterity?
leave a trace?
prove something to my companions?
take over the world?
would-be king?
nope.
Just to show it to her
open a window for her
to look inside
wait
haven't cleaned my head yet
I only have one shot
close the window again
don't do the same mistake again
like for the last one
I was cool
I smiled
had a positive attitude
got her
made love to her
lied to myself
lied to her through myself, no words though
made a frown
she asks why
said the truth,
she's not the one
she's ok, she understood
she had a good time
she wanted so much to go on
like all the others I have known
now I'm just another one
no talent
writing stuff nobody cares for
like this one here
turning away from reality
like those guys on the net
hunting girls living in fakeland.

I have to
I can't live without it
It makes me cry in my dreams
I had this dream
where I see a standing column
the kind that you can spin
with pictures of me
and of my class when I was in primary school
and I smiled
I was hoping I could take the pictures
I could scan them and keep the memory
this memory which is slowly leaving me
so I ask the person who lives there
who owns the pictures
and this place is exactly like my childhood house
the person is a friend
a woman I know since I was a kid
it could have been anyone else
she says no
the refusal destroys me
I start crying like if a friend had died
or gone forever
like if all my past was invented
like I had never lived through it
like if I was invented,
a ghost,
a character,
an illusion...

reach for the stars
you'll never get there, but the journey's ok
as long as you travel first class
good books, willingness to learn a lot
real challenges, no weapons
just you and your brain
you and your patience
your smiles
you'll never reach the stars
but you'll find a great woman.

He's a night crawler, a virtual one. He realises his dark wishes on the net, he talks nicely to the women he meets, like a lamb, then returns home to fly like an eagle again. He's the king of parrots at work, he's the master of condors at night. The quality of his sleep depends on the speed of his processor, because he's got a machine and he could take over the world in one week-end. He can tap incredible rhythms while he types incredible bullshit on the screen read by people with bullshit in their head. He's the lord of the flies buzzing over cold pizza. The first generation of these beings is turning 40 and still hasn't got the message, and their teen siblings can't even read the writing on the wall for lack of acronyms.... what is there to be done to make it safe for us to believe in something else than anti-nuclear shelters crammed with shit in cans? He doesn't care. He goes on, he flies at night. He could rule the world. Too bad he can't. He's got chronic diarrhoea. He's a slave of his feeble guts. He hates that 3D world of his. He believes in the matrix of lies where the paranormal gives him hope that even the most cretin will survive to become a true god in his glorious after-non-life surrounded by a truckload of heroic fantasy whores. Something happens. Electricity is gone. He finds a radio in an old box. Three days, no power. Candles are a sell-out item. All of a sudden. Nowhere to go, nothing to do. No more Mr. Hyde. He tastes the bottom of the food chain. He becomes food for stronger people. Or food for the dogs of stronger people who know better.

Hours on the net
emptied my life
only me and my thoughts
and this computer
and the souls behind it
I met dozens of them
most are really cool
but I can't relate to their needs
I see their wishes as futile
Some of them live happily
on the edge of boring moral values
they see that as their main sign of freedom
I was invited by a couple
to go to a free sex club
where people fuck freely
any man's dream?
I wouldn't stop laughing.
I keep longing for my cave
I can hardly bear conversations with men
though I keep meeting people, it's mainly women
they tell me I'm cute
so what..
what's the difference in the end
of course my ego tells me I should be proud
but what's the point
if she doesn't see that I would give my left hand
for her to fill my life with herself
there's a lot of room
but not an inch for all those so-called humans
living like ants

She's convinced that it's her fault. The serious guy who told her to leave him was right. She knew that it would be better to do that. But she couldn't do it. She wouldn't hurt his football-dedicated heart. She kept him. She waited and believed the distance was about football. She enjoyed conversations online with another guy. Funny one this time. Dark lord of something. He called her "Lady of the Winds" or something like that. The other guy, the serious one, is just a memory. She lived like this, happily, ever after. She was the most boring person I ever met.

This guy discovers he's a super-hero. He can fly. Problem is that he can only fly face upwards and feet first. Soon after taking off, he's got a problem: the air flows in at max speed into his trousers and soon his testicles are frozen. Lands in terror to find he became a eunuch. Finds a job as assistant of a drunken magician who always wanted to do the floating sleeping person trick. Another wasted talent.

I met this woman. I thought, after all these months that things would settle in my head. I had stopped writing for so long. I needed to go on with this project. I really wanted. I thought that finally I'd understand that falling into temptation, bound by this animal magnetism would be a small thing to resist to. She probably thought the same. Is he OK? Is this going to be just another short story? Well we did everything wrong. Started with the sex, ended up talking. Why resist after all? Now I have to go through the classical process of realising that I don't love her, that it won't last, that it's all a pack of lies we tell to ourselves, that I'm actually desperately in love with someone I will never be able to touch, that I'm the sisyphus of modern times, stuck in a loop until Lady Perfect gets me out of it and that she's certainly not the one I'm thinking of. What a bastard. So many men and women do this everyday. I hate every minute of it. I enjoy every minute of the instinctive side though... Get a fucking life, that's what I need. All this is a lie. I pretend I can write, I pretend I can come up with something, but after all, there's nothing in my computer, there's nothing written or linked, all these stories I create don't end up nowhere else than in the silence of my fading memory when I want to put them together. She asked me to give ourselves a chance. What a fucking shame. If only she knew how much that precise question made it clear to me that it would soon be over. Will I write about it? Who fucking cares? I'll write anyway

I would give my left hand to give her this moon, but she wouldn't stand such a weight, so soon. She's asleep on the sand, rests her worried mind, I'll keep my left hand, and watch her soul shine. When she finally recovers her pride, we can sit and watch the stars collide, or walk the path side by side, that's up to her to decide.