Fired Poem by Rafa Martin

Only my feet understand
what the tightrope is
where it carries that tense
impassive thread of steel
and how the emptiness persists
after each false pass
like a scaffold that cuts off
the current of things

I roll the remedies
whose classic echo names
will not save my livers
Swift relief from the chaos
flashes from old eves
came from extinct strains
Where's my love?
Where do we go now?

The gentle hills of peace
that once embraced the sea
are the embers of a plunder
I never knew the ladder to the skies
I never knew how to flee the fire
I hear a thunder of dead metal
opening my tenderest nights
The needle seeks my travels in a circle
I run while I can
I sing the grooves of the last album