lunes, 25 de marzo de 2013

sometimes life is standing still
in the middle of an empty suburban square
with the light rain
falling on your face
while you think about the love you lost,
the abandoned fountains
and why the hell there are 4 empty microlax tubes on the dirty cement floor

sometimes life is making love on a cliff over the long lost Atlantic ocean
while waiting for the bus to come to take you back
or looking into her green eyes while she says she’s mad about you
watching her driving her bike under the oaks in the
dense hot of the tropical summer

is driving through the dessert with the somber halo of the soul-thirst-electrical-train numbing your bones like a blow of dust
dancing bugs
hard beds
and illusions of a glowing blue pool in the edge of the Texan exodus massacre

a reverberating scream in a cave
a bean-sized baby
with saturn-ringed hands
a pain in your nose after a fist fight
or the smell of a horse in pure darkness

an ephemeral text message
hanging somewhere in the room
after a fake name
an almost imperceptible graze in the silky neck
of the angelina night

sometimes is missing
even when you have her,
or running into the same brick wall a thousand times

… sometimes life is a skinny dry feeling
of loneliness that
grows somewhere between the skin of your skull
and the empty white space behind your eyes