i have this marvelous idea for a poem.
but i am too tired to write it
down.
abre parênteses:
i have this marvelous idea for a poem.
but i am too tired to write it
down.
twenty-one chairs
two sofas
five boards
two murals
one foolish observer
I don’t look more suspicious than you do. We are more alike than we know (and that, my friend, is a real cliché).
We are messed up equally, non-proportional parts.
All in the head
from here
looks like I’m in the
end of the world
or in the edge,
I don’t know…
looks like the world
is a giant ball
with walls and ceilings
and I’m in one
of its endings
(the sky here is lower than home)
beginning the day
(inmsone)x insomne
made everything look
suspended
as if my body was jellymade
and bounced with every
step
each one, in a different
pace
band-aid on my middle finger
feels like
my handwriting is telling me
to
fuck
off.