---

in times of desperation
lonely paints in the box
dreaming of the clear sky
I am trapped between grays and blues

there’s a knock on the door
total strangers standing in the driveway
unbearable hums and buzzes
I am trapped between cigars and booze

my little girl doesn’t like me
she cries and stamps her feet to my seat
“and yes, 54th homicide of the year”
there’s another shooting on the news

just before you leave, you said:
I am tired, just very tired
it was the be all and end all
I just didn’t see the clues

I guess my name is mud
an inclination to shoot myself free
to have the bitter taste of your sweet soul
but the spirit of the blues, says you lose

13th wasn't the end of it!

(well, this is for you then, so you will keep coming.)

Tad a!
All the jingles are coming
All the joy of having a new gift
The presence of an old leaf flying into the sky
And our eyes following the path of the tango
Careful not to cross the line
(do you remember?)

she said:

“you’d say time knew nothing
well now you’re gone
and time is all I have left”

keep walking

breathing so softly
you are
on my land of dirt and disappointment
mud and the earth,
which are becoming my grave

and people walk
and people laugh
and people talk
and people don’t know
that with every step
all the lines on my face getting longer
all the fractures, on my heart

I know that nobody knows the laughter
I know that nobody knows the tears
I know that nobody knows the cry
that I have singed for all these years.

---

I was amazed by the distance in your eyes

I am like a lonely man in the maze
deaf, dumb and blind
in the silence of an autumns afternoon
and I have two windows in my room
both with thick and dark curtains
closed
and the darkness
in my heart

sometimes I feel like an old mans cane
breaking the silence of the alley
with a rhythm of a dropping water in the sink
unbearable

toss and turning in my bed
the pros and cons of all the words that I want to hear
the meaning of all the words you want to ask
all the words that you did not say
and I did not ask
sabotaging the truth of your migration to north
while all the birds, to south

your unpredictable desire
makes me want to survive
the passion of owning a red flashy sports car
seeing you on the rear view mirror
with a flashy red dress
slightly above your knees
and all the joy of being a teenage again
on the moments of my midlife crisis

how euphoric.