viernes, 28 de agosto de 2009


I am waiting for the phone to ring
It does not matter if it is 3:20 am in a paperback night,
that I am alone as a sick horse
or that you left without saying goodbye
I am still waiting for that phone to ring

I drive amongst the fox holes
the semi naked prostitutes
the garbage eaters
and your smell still shines like gold dust in my hands

no matter how many times I wash them

You are there, somewhere in this city
I know
And that is what hurts the most
because you will never be closer than this
and I am dying
and you have my number
and you just don’t…
I know

I am waiting for a miracle
and thought that you could be the answer
I know that all I can do is wait
look at the lithium screen
and wonder

I know that falling in love with you is like
waiting to grab a shooting star while I sit on my window
but I am still looking at the damn phone
while I sweat and bite my fingers and try to forget I am a fucking loser
and I will never feel the feathers of your skin near my face

I could be waiting for the seas to open
the mountains to crumble
the winds to blow until this city is erased
but I am waiting for that phone to ring
And I hurt myself
And think about the bracelets in your wrists
I have no other answer