campsite

it was not until thursday that i knew what was going on.
the lift seemed an unlikely solution.
all things pointed to the direction i had not faced before.
the sky was a little red and grey.
and their bodies grew yellow and black.
everything in my head was blurry,
still when i spoke it was as if i was certain about anything.
the fact remained that while i was alive, my friends were dead,
and i was starting to think that i did them in.
one by one in my strangest dreams i killed them in my sleep.
and now, not knowing what to do i just lay in my tent, hoping someone reaches what's left of us.
the forest was a great scenario, i could have taken a million pictures if the sight wasn't dragged to this.

jump overboard

jazz
figurines danced over a table.
salty feet stumbling at each other.
fear was their rythm and awe.
how was it that they found the music with so much to run from.
greedy eyes watching over their shoulders,
cold hands avoiding to touch,
and feel, and keeping from melting into the scene.
standing up
reasoning there was not,
filtering rays
bolting keys
shattered faces and growing holes.
senseless beating of seconds one after the other,
and then there was no sound at all.
no hands,
no figurines,
no stares at the wall.
no jazz
no edge

regret

staring over the bridge i saw a woman trying to stand up.
she couldnt talk, or stay still.
she had been crying about a flower.
the sense of all over was around.
when she finally stood up she had nowhere to go.

monologue (with stupid)

take me
ill regret not having, not taking it all.
step back
when we meet i dont want to see a frown
lay on the grass, bring the wine.
becoming or begoing but dont stay still,
tell me
its you that i miss?
on the shower, in a bench on the park...
lay down on the grass, and bring the wine.
stay right here before running away.
maybe someday we'll have time to think about this.