The may bee of things
and the so long of reason
triumph of dementia
exhausting race
leaving me breathless
both galley slave and jailer ...
Prisoner of the mischivous senses
naked of soul in front of the mirror,
no voice answers ...
butterfly pinned on eternity
bird crucified in memory
fly stuck in oblivion ...
Live in faded steps,
in search of candelight happiness,
painful harvest of absence ...
A drop of blood on the broken glass,
beggar of my poor loves
and of these auroras that only passed by ,
I tore up all pictures ,old comedies,
inventing an eternal present ...
All I did was chase after mocking words,
the burnt spirit of old alcohol ,
and now it\'s time to go ...