-Triangular rupture of a circle-

Escrito por en septiembre 14, 2009 a eso de las 6:31 pm.

I hate the symmetry of my thoughts.
My ideas are squares that fall
Heavily to the floor and fail,
Every single time they try to fly.

Round corners, softness,
Circles and lightness, chalk stroked borders.
That’s my dream.
To break the structure that makes me, and lays within me.
Attempting to kill me, every single day.

I can feel how time is leaving me behind.
I can feel how music starts to get lost in the thin air of my ambitions.
Disable me.

The horizon starts to blur.
To disappear.
To break into white, fragile pieces.
Meanwhile, I wait my end.

Bored, and in place.
Structure and I.
Wait in pain,
For that someone to pull the plug.

Misery is just another way to describe this,
Monochromatic and stactic
squared life,
that lays in the palms of another.

Then your round clear beautiful eyes appear.
One thousand apologies,
To life.
I must…

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