The path goes on.
The mountains are further away,
And on the left there is the sea.
But he is alone on the path.
His death is that shadow walking beside him,
that he has painted earlier on a canvas.
He doesn’t know what day of the week it is,
he doesn’t know the date neither.
He doesn’t care.
His friends are gone, his parents are dead.
Sometimes a car passes by, ugly, with idiots in it, and music.
Human beings are so awful, and yet nature is so beautiful.
He doesn’t believe in God, he doesn’t believe in man anymore,
he only knows that once he reaches those mountains
in the distance, one day,
for him too, it will be time to die.
Ivan de Monbrison is a poet and artist living in Paris. Born in 1969 and affected by various types of mental disorders, he has published some poems in the past.