I believe that I am in hell, therefore I am there.

I am the slave of my baptism. Parents, you have caused my misfortune, and you have caused your own.

The northern lights rise like a kiss to the sea

I understand, and not knowing how to express myself without pagan words, I’d rather remain silent

I found I could extinguish all human hope from my soul.

It began as research. I wrote of silences, of nights, I scribbled the indescribable. I tied down the vertigo.

The poet makes himself a voyant through a long, immense reasoned deranging of all his senses. All the forms of love, of suffering, of madness; he tries to find himself, he exhausts in himself all the poisons, to keep only their quintessences.