Arousal
My sexuality is aroused by every little song we once sang, my beloved, the profound effect of an apocalyptic prophecy which puts my mind into a state of trance
— Get up and help me do the dishes, don’t be a lazy ass
Goldfinches hover and flutter around the bird feeder with no concern for my settled mind
— I wish you just listened to me; I wish I didn’t have to repeat myself again and again
The parabolic myth of my oppressed life turns into the riddle I need to decipher. The new Pythian priest shall deal with the frugal littleness of the everyday routine that vexes my nerves and turns me into an automaton
—Come now, it’s not so bad; you wipe the dishes after I wash them
Strange sounds surround my earlobes, a cacophony of badly tuned lyres strung by the fingers of my misfortune and the antiphony chorus stands opposite my resolution to get out of here
—It has happened before; it can happen again: freedom at last
Manolis Aligizakis 