reac(stimula)tions

  Broken people in a first world's despair   With our hearts in our heels   The throat gagged by the shame   Because we are all well aware   That our pain in truth reveals   The luxury of our frame With a roof over the head And money for the bread We still lay in our bed Thinking that maybe we should be dead The base of the pyramide is guaranteed But nothing seems to make our heart bleed So we lay under cover waiting to recover In between the fight and  the flight We stand still: The battery has run low In us there is no heroic knight Just the absence of a thrill And a deep love for our pillow Our crisis is in truth silly Some place in the world people are hungry, really And if they saw our apathy, I'm sure they would get angry I know I would, if everyday I was trying the best I could It is a luxury to reclaim sense While leaving it all in suspense  But still: The mist is just too dense So we do the hungry the offense We c

In High School, in French litteratur class, we had a theme about anti-heros. Regular people who weren't choosing the brave path, but were instead failing, falling, going from mistake to mistake, and were by no way appealing, which at the same time was what was interesting to read and made the hero more human for the reader. A little later, when at the university, I started to read some Houellebecq, who again nailed it in putting repelling, ugly, under-common people in the center of his novels. Those people you don't want to be, the boogiemen of your human evolution. Recently I read this novel about this unhappy housewife, who compensates her unhappiness by taking lovers, basically to forget one she had fallen in love with a couple of years ago, and who had left. At the end she gets beaten by her husband, kicked out from home, leaves her perse in the train, finally calls the unforgotten lover to find out that he got happily married, kicks her phone into the lake and ends u