Gray suited mad man sitting
in an armchair with blue eyed
sight beneath the depth of words
lit his and hers cigarette and releases
the smoke desperately imprisoned from
its birth by mouth by lungs dissolving
in the space of sickly white walls
where it mixing with presence
it passionatly dances in ephemeral
lustfully mediocre air
He said
in the morning I was a corpse
impatiently waiting for time to
breath into me a smear of life
I washed my hands I smoked
I turned on the radio and let
the music flew its way to an end
I had a glass and then another
and another until I thought it
safe to finally put on the mask
of smiles and unchanging
incarcerating compassion that was
supposed to dwell in all of us
She smiled
suspiciosly touching her hair
as if she could not tell whether
she liked him or not
She asked
if this face of yours which is never
to be found in the sketchy mornings
is not in fact your face, then what
do you wear it on? Don’t you suffer
from suffocation
from overheat? Don’t
you want to live as free?
He smiled
raising a glass to his false lips
that taste so much of a sin but not guilt
He said
something so cold does not mind
the sunshine and that which does not
breath the lack of air
I wake up dead and leave the house living
but only to an untrained eye for
hollow can see another hollow
trying to hide itself in deceptive depth
my eyes are the mirror into which you
cannot look for you do not understand
the important unimportance of birds
multiplying each year just to multiply
or of trees that grow and are cut down
no matter the time when woodcutters
step on gentle summerbreeze
you say it is so it is
and others it is but it cannot be
drowning their lives in never changing
reality achieved by praying and LSD
they fear what I have to say
it is not and it must not be
He fell silent
reaching for another cigarette he
realised she was puzzled
She said
but isn’t it you who drink all day
just to forget the scenery of pain?
He smiled
He said
and isn’t it you who give yourself
to all those men to hide before
an unreal reality of nothingness
She shrugged
for he was right that it wasn’t
disarable to drunkenly watch
and name the colours of the rain
Nothing else was said
he paid and they left
afterwards they lied in his bed
he smoking a cigarette
She said
don’t tell me that there was nothing
you have felt for your heart was
racing with your breath
He smiled
thinking
but have you seen my eyes darling
O you poor deceived woman
only they tell the truth hidden in
the hollowest corner of the blue
that lifeless soul cannot be fed
that simple mask to put on in the morning
cannot enliven the dead