...
Glass houses
and in them, you and I.
Every movement is a studied minimalism,
Every gesture is a ritual of the old.
What matters is yours and mine,
Divided by unfulfillment.
We build glass houses,
Because we have nothing left to hide.
Even nakedness does not bother us
The secret has been uncovered,
The DNA of future generations is planned.
There, on the corner, an old building still haunts,
The past century remembers its bitten facades,
Windows bricked up bare their teeth.
Listen, there is more life there
Than in this sterilized space.
There is a history of cries, of historic turmoil.
Someone promised to be a support,
Someone left someone unappeased.
Levitating energies trapped in spaces
Hold a ball, endlessly repeating
The same sunset.
And we, immobilized in comfort,
Afraid to move the space,
Waiting for revelation,
Close to what opens a new world.
Another soul has been robbed of meaning,
For we are all to be sterilized,
Uncritically imprisoned in private pains.
I would like to live with you in an old building
With a small garden that dies in autumn.
I want high ceilings decorated
With the paints of past generations,
I want to be the element that holds things together.
I want to discover our adventure.
And to fade quietly like a tealight
God, just save me from eternity
of repeated endless mistakes.
Nov 5, 2025
Nov 5, 2025 at 11:34 AM UTC
...
Glass houses
and in them, you and I.
Every movement is a studied minimalism,
Every gesture is a ritual of the old.
What matters is yours and mine,
Divided by unfulfillment.
We build glass houses,
Because we have nothing left to hide.
Even nakedness does not bother us
The secret has been uncovered,
The DNA of future generations is planned.
There, on the corner, an old building still haunts,
The past century remembers its bitten facades,
Windows bricked up bare their teeth.
Listen, there is more life there
Than in this sterilized space.
There is a history of cries, of historic turmoil.
Someone promised to be a support,
Someone left someone unappeased.
Levitating energies trapped in spaces
Hold a ball, endlessly repeating
The same sunset.
And we, immobilized in comfort,
Afraid to move the space,
Waiting for revelation,
Close to what opens a new world.
Another soul has been robbed of meaning,
For we are all to be sterilized,
Uncritically imprisoned in private pains.
I would like to live with you in an old building
With a small garden that dies in autumn.
I want high ceilings decorated
With the paints of past generations,
I want to be the element that holds things together.
I want to discover our adventure.
And to fade quietly like a tealight
God, just save me from eternity
of repeated endless mistakes.
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