YESTARDAY, AFTER A LONG TIME, I TURNED TO WRITING
I think about the man; in his capabilities, en his contempt. I think about the white walls in a peeling room. I think about the inspid bodies full of wishes, that get lost in the only fact of seeing so many emptyness in the air.
An orange glow passes through the window and stains the wall with its color... I think about that wall without that glow and without my eyes... ¡no eyes!
I listen the little silence between word and word, that it repits on and on. It bunces inside those heads that have not comprehension more than for their egotistical arguments about the divine reason.
And I dream... I dream black and shadows, I dream delirium and desire, but I dream. And when I wake up by accident, the heaviness invades my soul.... how hard it is to wake up between so much knowledge and so much ignorence, so much things lived that pull me back to be a corpse in the bed, wrapped in smelly blankets of dead memories and leafless wings!
How hard it is to swallow the pain in the breakfast... pain spread on the toasts, pain that discolored the bitter milk. And I swallow, and I eat, and I drink, and I look at the walls, the emptyness between my fingers.
I look my lips biting in the resignation, squezze whit arrogance until hurt themself in a false grin that intends to transmit indifference.
I know myself... it hurts but it's useful. Now I know exactly all what I don't want to be, all what it bothers to me and want to change. With each passing day I get to know for second time all what is around me... my house, my family, my friends, and the things that happens almost by inertia. I try to not judge them, but I start to have a deepest reading. I think that they read me too, and I'm afraid that all what I have written in my eyes, in my skin, in my lips, it is not exactly what they should read. How do I tell them that those words that I search so much are actually the same that they should read?
A silence is the only phrase that may end up spinning my thoughts in this paper... one silence, two silences, three.
