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Half sick of shadows
Half sick of shadows
Through Our Windows
Different Gravity
The Cycle
Our Lives
I Can Understand
Then Came
When It's Over
Curse Of The Mortal
The End Word
What's been written is sometimes
A place that can't be reached,
A bridge that lets mind spill
Onto the tangible world.
A keyhole to outside the empirical,
A place to peep from without falling
Down the slippery chain of thought,
Turning it into a snail-spiral staircase
That allows it to carry the light
Further down the cave.

Through Our Windows
Falling in shades of gray
It’s working its way
Uniformity is spreading
Depth, colors and shapes
Are absorbed by ink
Until the black consensus
That peeks
Through our windows.

It wraps itself around,
Forcibly embraces the world
Rushes into the open mouth
Of the drowning sources
Witness the take over
Like the end of something
Like the surrender of life
Through our windows.

Temptation might be strong
To recreate what was lost
Lit artifice, glowing illusion
An attempt to prolong the day
Through the control of ecology
Might be pervasive,
Won’t scare the feelings away.
Environment reduced
To a manageable surface
Just brings to light
The evidence of the uselessness
Of the device.

Until tomorrow
It will be night inside
Through our windows. 

Different Gravity
I have known so little
Of the sadness of the world,
And it is all in me.

What a weird lonely planet my head is,
Which holds sorrow by the ton.

Every desperate act of courage,
Every sad confrontation with inevitability,
Every connection severed,
Every bit of misery,
Every unethical blow,
Every face of cruelty
Finds its way to my head
After tearing through my heart,
Until the overflow streams down my face
Long enough to make room
For what lies ahead.

So little has been taken from me,
So little has been demanded of me,
And still I have taken the toll.
My chest is no armor,
It is full of the things
That make moments memories,
Of the space that fills sighs,
Of that which makes eloquence
Realize its inadequacy.

Haunted by the unfiltered rawness of eyes all around,
Their wordless speeches resonating in my mind,
Bouncing forever in my brain like a trapped animal,
Like an endless loop of scary thoughts.
Heavy to the point I don’t seem to be
Subjected to the same laws as everybody:
Same planet, and yet different gravity.

So go ahead…
Close your eyes and dream,
Half open them and just be,
Open wide if you are not afraid,
For the moment you wipe them,
You have become me.

The Cycle
When it rained for so long,
When leaves whirled through our minds.
In the air nor warm nor cold, suspended,
The scents brought us back to the beginning.
The mourning was in yellow brown and red,
When we listened to the dust settle,
When ending had never been so quiet,
Silence never been so meaningful.
When, for a while, we stared at this paradox,
Head tilted toward the crooked side of life.
When we gladly left the growing shadows
With the prospective torment of loneliness.
When the film over life got removed,
Maybe because everything was giving up,
We finally felt like we belonged.
When these times sneaked up on us,
When we held hands with the moment.
All of that while the wind
Had the trees shake their heads
In disapprobation.

Do you remember,
When we walked across winter,
The wind drove into our lungs,
To try to get to our fire.
When white powder was mirror,
And reflections burnt our eyes.
Oddly the sunlight was cold,
And on the horizons we shared,
Dusk pointed a weakened finger
At a ghostly land, gone bold.
Your pain was getting so loud,
That I was feeling it as well.
Down our cheeks
Our frozen tears
Sealed our lips,
But I can still recall
Everything we didn’t say.
Through the snow,
We kept struggling away,

Do you remember when we were reborn,
When the whole sphere was looking to expand,
When everything was waking up together,
And seemed like it wanted to get outside of itself.
When, on their way back, the southern flocks
Threatened the cold, whose armies fled,
To retire further north until the next assault.
When some memories slowly surfaced,
Pulled away from their cryogenic state,
And unfolded the way they were before,
Like they just pierced an ice age wall.
When “thirst” became a religion again,
When we felt thirsty for life once more,
And skin contact was music to our senses.
When colors were bursting everywhere,
Up to people’s smiles, up to people’s souls.
When yet another puzzle, which pattern
We assumed would resemble the previous ones,
But we still hoped would draw clear skies,

When the days leaned on the nights,
And were still not long enough.
When we watched the tide ponder,
And finally put out the sand on that beach.
When we seemed to be carrying the sky,
And we had to dim the light outside.
When the shade was hiding from the energy,
Until fire pounded on the background,
And shattered the heat to liberate water,
That spelled relief with every hit
On our begging faces,
Standing on the thirsty face of the planet.
After the soil drank the last drop,
When the smoke rose to confuse our worlds,
And the fog merged our dreams with life,
And infused our life with dreams.
Sky was blue, time flew in slow motion,
We didn’t want to know anything else,
When we were together in heaven,
On earth.

Our Lives
What happened in front of the piano?
Did you fall and clench the floor?
Did you get called outside in the sun?
Wasn’t black and white your color?
Did you smile, close your eyes and run?

Did you wish the train would wait?
Or did you just forget your keys home?
When you reached that fork a little late
Did you think all roads really led to Rome?

Did you have a life like I did
Before it was switched for dreams?
Do you remember the little kid
Who wouldn’t become what it seems?

I just remember watching you,
Now that the star is yawning wide,
sitting on the tip of my twig
Where my own branch took me,
Far from the nest where it started,
My head back I still squint to see
And I wonder absent-mindedly
What happened to that piano in front you. 

I Can Understand
I can see through these eyes
The clash of unfamiliar landscapes
Tidal waves on their toes
Ready to smash features in.
Insecure, I understand,
Defensive, I understand.

I can perceive with these ears
The murmurs of ancient demons
Who hide behind their sources
Buried deep in the past
In the attic of your mind.
Compulsive I understand,
Crazy, I understand.

I can’t feel all the sorrow
But I can imagine it’s there
Hidden behind the smiles
Of those closer than I think
Complying with a happiness
They find in the garbage
Playing with a dead rat
Eating grass
Too hot, too cold, no light
Or too much of it
Where misery can be regarded
As a possession.
Faithless, I understand.

I can smell through the breeze
Tears waiting to happen
Their compulsion to hurt
Their ignorance and hate
The hole in their chest
Where the voice should be
That decides it’s right or wrong.
Cruel, I don’t understand.

I can taste in our mouths
The bitterness of life
The mine who swallowed
The mountain of misery
They died so hard for,
When others…
You sigh, I understand.

Then Came
Then came, unannounced,
The idea that I should go around
Chasing a storm that I
Would never catch.
Who is looking for serenity
Might walk the chaos of doubt
Until their voices become one,
Calling the same direction,
Before life becomes life,
And death a final part of it.

Fewer words,
Around this fire
That feeds on time.
Half eaten by the dark,
Absorbed by the light,
Faces reflect embers
Printed on minds.
Profiles, one at a time,
Forget to lie
Half truths only
For those who can
Left from right,
Dark from light..
The end of time
Brings out the night,
Puts out the light.

When It's Over
No first, no last
No slow, no fast
No weak, no strong
No good, no wrong

Not frustrated anymore
Not restrained anymore
Not shocked, not locked
Not pleased, not aware
Not teased, not fair

No temptation, no corruption
No vacation, no deception
No punishment, no resentment
No disappointment, no commitment

A life that is imposed on you
That you have to go through successfully
According to criterions imposed on you
By people whose finiteness defines their inability

No selfishness
No responsibility, no cruelty
No animosity, no generosity
No choices, no voices

No tears, no fears
No anguish, no relish
No waiting in vain
No dealing with pain

No peace, no bliss
No hell, no bail
No feeling, nothing
Just plain the end.

There will be flowers
Growing between your fingers
Nothing really matters
When it’s over.

Curse Of The Mortal
It is the way it flows,
The way it goes,
That leaves me numb.

So I try to cheat a little,
Turn myself into a winter lake
To see if time will stop breathing too,
And share the stillness of immobility,
With me.

Instead it carves lines in my youth
A little deeper everyday.
For time is a sculptor
That undertakes lifelong projects
To perfect the face of death,
Always successfully.

Despair droops down melting figures,
Salty fountains who can’t help but cling,
Like my heart clings to the pictures
Of a past of which I know will remain nothing,
In time.

The End Word
The reason people hang on to lips,
The choice of the ultimate breath,
The last vapor of a genie
To describe its inner lamp.
Until who knows when,
The end word.

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