viernes, 10 de febrero de 2012


sun comes up and down,
in and out
blinding me
through the clouds

i cannot sleep very well
since she said goodbye for the last time,
since i saw her tiny feeble body walking away
in the greasy dark city night
like a paper bird on a pond of oil

i stand there
dispatching that tasteless cigarette
I begged her for just five minutes ago
leaning on the cafe wall

still feeling her rose perfume lingering in the freezing polluted air

remembering the days of the getaways
and the hotels
and the powder, the ponies, the cold plains

in the village everybody is eating dinner,
small time whores by the coliseum,
while uncle Fed shouts from the top of a tree
for a few dollars more
in the very streets you roamed when we still didn’t
know each other

and i wish they would come back again
and come out of that thick fog in my brain
and stop haunting me,
wishing me dreams and nightmares
in the subway
just like i was missing an arm
or an eye

gotta write that song
I forgot about,
a damn song in two hours
about my loneliness
and my decay
and about the war
while the orchestra is waiting
and her words still hammer my ears
“We should be playing softly,
building homes,
pretending to be good kids”

But we can’t
And we wont

these anti-love story
about doors, and showers, and radios
and fear
shot in 800 ISO
all grainy and out of focus
and unbalanced

i wish those days they would come
even though it seems like i am leaving her
even thouh she loves me
even though i love her

i think i told you

i cannot sleep very well
since she turn that dirty corner around