The no song

Not near the mountains
Nor near the sea, the country
Not near childhood
Not near what I know, what I don’t
Not, Not, Not
Not into nothing
In something
Not in words
Not in woods
Nor in a jungle
Not in fantasy
Not nowhere
Not on my own
Not on this page
Not with this ink
Far from you
Far from fucking
Far from the language after the fuck
No rhythm
Not images
No parody of the “no”
Of the knot
No track of it
No track for it
No city
Not Not Not
No punks
No anarchy
No engagement
Not in couple
Not in fusion
Not separated
Not in the body
Not in the dichotomy
Not in tune
Not in the mood
I’m in a loop
Not Not Not
Not on the verge of
Not a virgin
Not working
Not making others work
No sense No fear : not true
No goal 
No grip 
No get away
 Get up !
No purpose
“I’d rather not to”
No peace, no power
Fools : no kisses no touch
No fight, no food
Some friends
 Some fate
No faces 
No traces
In the garden : no Fruit
No Danger
Some mess, no prophet
Not even hairs on legs
No valleys
Through the window no view
No train
No song