My soul wrested from my body, wrested from flesh and blood. The separation of these parts is attended with flashes from the past. My hands will be nailed to the cross. These nails prevent the blood from leaving my body. Blood calcifies in my veins. I’ve got this feeling that this will never end. Raindrops are like bullets, leaving behind suppurating wounds. My skin has become vulnerable, she forms a contradiction between the inner and outer world. Equality means nothing more than a concept. Distinction is becoming bigger and bigger. Protected by a cocoon. A need to survive. When is this going to end?