lunes, 28 de mayo de 2012
-Give them every liquid… yet melted.-
Almost tiptoeing on their words, their feet must have bleed to think.
-After one secret, poisoned is trust.-
- Give them every liquid, melted already
in ice-cubes is the liquor.
- After one secret, trust is liquefied
They don’t know it yet because they left their words to bleed.
Now they tiptoe in whispers trying to avoid the poisoned spilled truth.
Liquor is melting in their words, as they bleed their brains to death.
It is not so difficult to imagine why they avoid to construct any full-of-sense phrase. It could be the end, do you feel me? The End.
I thought of this poem when Claudia was showing us the pictures of her amazing Weltreise, and I perfectly understood why nobody listens more than ten minutes in those cases, and normally there is a huge amount of alcohol to avoid jumping through the window.
I said to myself “give the girl every liquid yet melted…”
That happens when you don’t tiptoe and sink completely on the muddy soil.
That is why “they” (meaning, the people in general) rather not listen completely what you are saying to them, or they might have to change some of their internal processors.
Have I not listened with open axons to you Gremlin, I would have forgot that feeling of not belonging, that opposite to nostalgia. Do you know that we don´t have that word in Spanish? I guess it doesn´t exist in French either. Too- proud-of-their-country-people to feel the need to leave. Fernweh
Publicado por cleaysus3 en 13:22
Publicado por cleaysus3 en 13:15
Publicado por cleaysus3 en 13:09