Was it a tiny coloured line,
was it a black endless nothing.

A bunch of lights, twisted, flipped and drifting
A mass of them, and among this nothigness, a shadow

It had its own charisma,
its own shape
its own personality

It shined, though black
It crumbled, though strong,
and jumped, cheerful,
but it was far,
and the brief and narrow coloured line widened

Days went by, so did people
Did friends, did more than friends, did girlfriends

None of them, full or empty, fulfilled that shape

Nor did they dislike me
I even loved some,
but I didn't

And when I found her,
the woman in the shadow shape,
dreamed I in peace

The path you walked into
Left you for some
Footsteps of a goddess that we were
Never fond of her existence
He left you on the road
Oh, beautiful landscapes of all
Such green trees, such brown leaves
Do you wonder how I wonder?
Wanderlust- collecting dust of the
Wasted weeks we had of
Nothigness.

my feet are ******* *****
a little bit of mud
a little bit of sand
a little bit of grass
I’m soaking them
in the sea of Tranquility

one box is from Portugal
one firm box from France
it’s just clinking
last two left

guardians of the boat
are having a break
sweat running down
of their faces
eyes hypnotized
and the wind
is like a paradise
of their grey hair

I’m slowly reading
a book by Bukowski
and I can see
sometimes
you got so alone at times
that it just makes sense
yeah
and three times yeah

secretely I’m watching
those saint guardians
drying their sweating foreheads
calloused hands
you can’t bet anymore

the sun is falling back
into a furiously quiet nothigness
of the Universe
and innocent souls of the guardians
are forgotten in irritant darkness

the first half of boxes goes to the shops
the next one
they are gonna drink
and early in the morning
the night is fulfiled
with a ***** daylight