The pain is like a garment and sewn to your skin if I watch you sitting in the dark as you are suffering still because the pain is sewn to your skin the pain speaks with your mouth the pain thinks with your brain it is dark in the room you see almost no light the curtains are drawn only a faint glow comes in through the sides of the curtains in the dark here now the eyes are getting used to the darkness a little bit now in this nocturnal landscape you can distinguish shapes shapes that are almost drawn with a pen in the night because reduced to their simplest expressions and the pain is still there and sewn to your skin and you suffer without saying a word like an already wounded animal which will undoubtedly die soon and also it frightens you a little bit too each thing being equal to itself a man is equal to a lunatic a lunatic is equal to a dog a man is equal to a dead man walked up inside his silence by his own sewn lips and finally as the curtains are drawn the day itself is equal to the night  as finally you erase your thoughts one by one on the blackboard of your brain only words remain which have no surfaces still lying on your bed you close your eyes you don't speak you just listen to the noise that time makes flowing within oblivion.