CARTE BLANCHE #15
See where it leads. To write randomly. With no purpose. No time. No subject. Spontaneous writing.
See where it leads to write effortless. After reading poems.
See what comes from emptiness.
From nothing.
From fire without the spark.
Selfcensor. Unspoken?
My emptiness is full though. My emptiness is private though. I don’t heal to write.
I lay my words without a tune.
I lay my emptiness. Instead of living. Still. I read my emptiness. The absence of what I feel. What I felt.
Seeding my words. With no purpose nor spark. To give a sense. To find a meaning. To make it a poem.
But I would like to summon instead. Like ancient witches.
But I would like to summon instead. To heal my pain and turn my wounds into magic. Into actions.
Nothing.
Selfcensor. Unspoken.
What I go through is a secret. A well hidden mystery.
I don’t want to show. I don’t want to say.
I want to live.
But my whole world is… Even this “I” I want to get rid of. To less expose. To be a bit less me. To put some distance with my fellings. To keep me from the whole world. Because my own world is broken.
See where it leads.
My emptiness. My overwhelming wholeness I don’t want to name anymore.
I don’t even know what I am doing here.
Looking at my screen. Typing like a lost girl in Neverland.
My emptiness. Full of what I can’t tell. Of what I don’t want.
I just want to night dream and let the star write my whishes.
Justine T. Annezo – April, 2nd 2026 – GTM+2
Fleeting Wor(l)ds 