viernes, 29 de julio de 2011

This is called "flashear"

I'm sick of 
     imagining (us)
                             I'm fukin' tired of
     watching us in a
                        stupid and unreal mirror
      with just a little cold wind as a difference

and you
  with the same unforgettable hilarious and kissable 


You do that.
You smile. And maybe you also cry inside.
But I... I just
   and talk (to you) alone.

I close my door and you were left.
One miserable and ordinary sound and
                      you are houses
 and buses and cities
      and thoughts and lips,
           and hugs, far.

I'm gettin' tired, you know.
Reality has always  been boring to me
                but this,
     and your mouth s-h-u-t-

and me playing
and           replaying
the fantasy with a single word out

Spit'em all out, you stupid!

I really would like being brave

Stop the car and
tell you softly
the whole damn story

and you will look down
or you may not 
or who knows what

But  now
I've got no voice
I've got no throat

I can only
                                                                                                                      every simple knot
  in this.

A.V     29/07/11

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