What Keeps Me-Being Hooked. Poem by Atef Ayadi

i play chess
only and only
when i let
my mind loose.
playing like a 'fucking kid.'
in nature,
or in cubes among friendly plastics.

me,
i was born in nature,
and transmitted throw the wires
(propelled, projected, extracted, ...,
induced, expected, ...,
marketed, ..., or digitally transferred, ...assimilated in a simulacra)
to live in a cartesian cubes,
in symbioses with plastics and with plastic surgical people.
what one can do.

it is the northern winter,
cold and with a omicron chill,
otherwise,
i will hike the town, until i get exhausted.

what propelled me
like an electron
from bulla-regia to a fucking swampy people
grid system.

is to live it.
be it and that is it.

i did not leave any esthetic stone work,
no architectural monuments.
nothing.
so, my script comes
handy.
i mean the way
possibly
you get
a skin künzell,
then possibly and anger or extreme hate.
if one laughs, one is 101 percent alive.