domingo, 11 de maio de 2008


Like the clasping of a passionate lover, a flower turns its wings to the sun and follows the path of the stars that will definitely lead her to the milky way. A cow in a field blinks to a certain bug that bumps his head into a tiny gravel lost in the ground. The Earth breathes to the beat of the drums that keep on throbbing, bobbing, mobbing the lost souls of the Universe. While the movement fills out the air, I try to figure out the single particle that keeps on emitting love and affection, fancifulness and imagination, tenderness and more marvellousness than anyone. Will it be able to irradiate poisonous rays to the sun and make it bleed snails of desire? Nothing will ever be the same and different, because you are the beginning and the end to me, my hope and despair. Your hands were so strong when the screw hit the tip of your fingers every time you were on the brink of pulling them out. Divine pleasure the very thought of picturing something hurting you with all its strength and power: an objet, a rusty dangerous nail that reminds me of our interminable exchange of eyes colours and rainbows. Fishes swim in the room while your hands keep up with the hard work and your smile forever hidden to me. Music, here I go again, here I am again: I do not want to leave you, I have no desire to being nowhere far from you, but the sun? Remember the rays? Well, they are here every time I write. Maybe they'll warm my feet.

Um comentário:

The tone disse...

Definitely you are getting more and more hermetic... it has been so difficult to commment your posts... they seem to be so gently woven, so seethingly revealing, mysteriously confusing for the ones who cannot understand what's on your mind. I would say it is a kind of love delcaration which works like a boomerang that is returning to you as they it is their nature to. Am I any close?