...: Who is he?
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He?… comes from the race struggle, from a clash of morals.
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He?... The offspring of despair!
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He! Rather she?... would have been of those who love upside down, a blind invitation, a wild ballet, just a dance in the dark.
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Fate cheated on him, a taboo to be silent: a negro who desires pink and blue, the lost between the genres.
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We toast to his dementia, a bitter toast, to forget the sin that comes from nowhere. The seed of a forbidden union.
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And the fallen creatures, trapped in his mind, whispered to him the sweet solfeggio of his last madness, the escort for hell.
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Who was he?
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Depressed, soul in tears, drugged by the sound of the notes of his white piano.
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Even their God was annoyed by his cold choir.
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What you don't know yet...
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He was dead!
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Stuck at the border of the perished. Not yet being able to enjoy the sentence of those who dared to love upside down.
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I am He, for the time being you will believe me, because I am only true in the memory of the one who falls asleep...
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