-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
