Selfbrush

it’s funny as hell
we fight over and over every day
the almost bearable lightness
of being

stupid, f*cking white man
feel black, yellow and red
when the soul thirsts
the word must become flesh
and the flesh the trash

we never seem to appriciate enough
the beauty of the other man
do not try to understand to me
by violence
seek detachment in the silence

at war