Christian Lindqvist

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Time that lacks contour, a longer text without substance is exchanged for the concentrate
Maybe the flow wants to lose itself in itself
Unrelated words seem to make sense or if it is just sentences that seems to create structure
It does not mean anything
Nothing is a funny word, out of nothing came everything
What is then really the beginning? Nothing is no longer reliable
A draw back, the same eternal thought, eternal thought
A universe's dragging inexorably lost
Let it be said a friend, just let it be, you lose yourself
Then I laughed, it’s funny, real funny
We can’t lose when we already lost
Let me be clear, I am not
I mean clear, neither in writing nor thought
But and here comes my problem, if there is no beginning and no end
Time that lacks contour
Then I am done
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