Outside of this room
my time dies
leaving traces of blood
on my hands.
My side of the road
leads to something sad,
to other deserted rooms
and the boredom of a day
becomes the boredom of forever.
My only ally
who has followed me everywhere
and that makes me stronger
than my own illness.
Between minutes punctuated
by the strokes of a teleprinter,
someone's writing my story
before it's over...
before it's over... before it's over...
before it's over... before it's over...
before it's over...