Towels, plant wounds, I cry, among the leaves, I cry because everything got wet, it ended up in a ditch, I ended up in a ditch.
The room I was put in got flooded.
My crying no one saves him.
Sea salt does not absorb tears or moisture.
The sea is too far away and I have drowned. I dry the leaves, they are my inner plants,
I got my hands dirty but everything is useless.
The plants wither, the flowers rot, the house collapses, I collect bricks and chickpeas, and it doesn't rain but I cry.
I tightened my shoelaces to walk, but my feet no longer go.
The road is unpaved, with holes in it, no one comes here, there are too many holes.
The lady of the cats, the one who came to me and spoke to me, perhaps she is now dead.
My heart is buried you chickpeas, I can't even float on water.
I water new seeds and new plants.
The sun calls me out but I feel bad.
I can't swim anymore and this weight inside me splits me in two.
We are two opposite plants, me and her, the killer ivy.
I dream of bad things and they do not come true and then I would like to give up and empty all the vases, empty all the rooms, destroy the world.
Books under the bed, books in the cupboard, in the book cellar, in the book room,
and they end lives,
lives begin,
people who live and I the only one who does not have a life.
I am locked inside the house, I am locked inside the garden,
I'm locked inside the bedside table,
 inside the chest, inside the boxes full of books.
I broke into pieces of sheets and leaves.

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