the edge

dry eggplants haunt me night & day

dawn & dusk

fog & rains

me, the others

but not me

or maybe it's just the way i look at myself

but it sucks, anyway

long nights are running behind me, right under my eyes

i can draw light, but i'm unable to give it out anymore

three branches, three and not four, nor two

neither seventeen

three

and i'm coming back to the forest

where it rains no more

where light decided to quit and beg in the streets

smiles are so lacking in faith

and hope is so lacking in smiles...

it's raining gin tonic in the land of the teetotal

nails in the country of magnets

fog is made of staples here,

you can learn to live with it

or just go back to your sweet dreams again

it's true i avoided the abyss

but can't help it

i get horny walking blindfolded on the edge

“Agonía, agonía, sueño, fermento y sueño. Éste es el mundo, amigo, agonía, agonía.”

 Federico García Lorca