Of search for a stream and getting
A Queen of knives and gutted bellies spitting blood
Of descending rugged walls using my knuckles
Of waving my arms to higher the flight
Of talking to, laugh, embracing the departed
Of doing litle pushes to jump over the land and roads so full of Beauty and Strangeness
Of knowing that I am sleeping and knowing it with a clear
Conscience
Of Conscienceness
All the regrets I felt
All joys I had or imagined
Not one project seems to make sense
Because all make pretty interesting things
And there I am hidden entangled in my sheets
The body wrecked as the rusted mind wonders
Not getting to a plausible future
So the it seems Mrs Road has reached its terminus.
Sadness pile as Salome pile over regret over unsatisfactorily
Then isolation settles like an hard shell
The searching for you my love and for its alter manifestations is the stair over stair which would allow to climb purpose
In this existence not so well defined in terms of Psico emotional entanglement
No other no relationships no family no society and thus, no me.
Only a curious shadow grieving for lost causes.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem