the picture

i could as well be a stone
the wind or maybe the time long gone
i could be anything for a nonliving
anything but for a human being
be here high up on the wall of a forsaken home
down on the corner of an undiscovered catacomb
be there as a picture as always
oblivious of the sundays and the fridays
i could care less about mindless markets
just as about the ministers’ asses with magnets
a metal chair will be the last thing on my mind
when this humankind is so blind
i’ll remain the picture
blurred or better it will never matter
as long as i’m not living those lives