I'm tired to be awaken
by sounds of ambulance,
these signs of illness and
approaching death.

My world is a hospital
where needles are currency
and pills are seat belts,
that supposable
insure my safety.

I'm tired to be awaken
by crying voices
and lifeless smells.

My chambers are chapels
full of prayers,
are border lines,
between morgue and life.

My clothes are stuck to my skin
as shell is glued to the snail
and my eyes are sunk in darkness
as sand is, on the bottom of the sea.

The thick glass of the window
whispers to me,
promises of liberty
and tempting loves.

I wish I'd separate from this dying body,
from this synthetic environment
I survived so far,
and begin a voyage
where time is meaningless
and matter is gone.

I'm tired to be awaken,
every time I die.