Looking always for the edge
Without ever being able to find it
Trying to grasp an opening
From vast mental distances
A few days without silence
To finally be broken
Like a broken bone
When the blow is unknown or unexpected.
The wonder that is left by one
The cruel abandoning of ceremonies
And all the emotion that her words expressed
But seemed silenced by the environment
As if they were the story of a poison
Of a horrible and unmentionable crime
Opening written ways
For the sweet lie of pills
When time forms the idea
Of its particular end, to its rest.
The theory of repentance
And a thirst that increases
To confessing sincerely and honestly
Like gunpowder traces on the hands of the assassin.
Facing the stress
With the approval of your heart
That likes to run
Although for this could need rest
Transforming the stones into bones
And in ashes the memory praising another
Like the drawn out game of existence
The detectable manifestation of isolated impulses.
And it is suddenly dark
And the body feels cold
Discovering worn hands
In the eyes, a suspicion of fatigue.
Just one more opportunity
For an old attempt
Wanting to be born again.