Spread,
Infect,
Pulverize,
Migrate,
Pollinate,
Propagate,
Reverbe­rate,
Echo,
Transmit,
Amplify,
Expand,
Convince,
Multiply,
Prolif­erate,
Create,
Pass on,
Reproduce,
Tell,
Shout.

It's worth it.

In the cold of a winter
He came in home
Just in time for dinner.

The key opened the door,
No one was surprised with his presence,
He sat on the end of the table,
Ate the dinner,
Not a look, not a comment,
They may even have not noticed him,
They may have not heard him,
Or the tinkling of  cutlery.

He withdraw after finished,
Went to the apartment door,
And it was his apartment,
But with all those people,
Unknown,
Strangers,
As if they owned the place.

Inside again,
At the bathroom,
The mirror confessed:
He was not there.
His time has passed.
He was not dead (that he knew for sure)
But he just was not there.

Hard to say where
He could be,
When he could be.
His decaying senses
Were of no help.
Everything he could feel
Of that time-space in the apartment,
But his whole body
Was somewhere else.

He slept on his bed,
But woke with the sun in his face.
No apartment,
No bed,
No dinner,
No ceiling.

Just a wanderer
Touching the last of his belongings:
His memories
Of what used to be his dream.

We are weak,
We can't handle completeness.
Time and behavior are strangers
And we try to conform them,
Configure into our limited view,
And we call it plans.

Yet, people, time, nature,
Movements, chances, impact,
All is uncontrollable.
Everything controllable
Is irrelevant:
What's the use in worrying about them?

Plans must be missing things,
Plans must contain lack of planning,
They are a learning process,
But we want them to be predictions,
The future to realize.

Plans are our incompetence
To comprehend the unexpected.
They are useful just as they
Remain unplanned.

Every calm lies fury within.
Like flowers on a tomb
Of an unexpected death.

It is the inner aggression,
The forgetfulness of the world,
Calm is ancient and, as such,
A vestige, the remnant of existence.

Calm is remote,
Keeps us faraway,
It is the missing ship
Never to arrive.

Where there is calm
There is latency
Of a sleeping giant,
The  outlying asteroid
Sudden to collide in an Earth's desert.

I want to act above calm
So, in fury,
I'll let peace reign.

Wake up in the cold,
A hot shower will warm you.
Black coffee on a cup
Something to eat before leaving.

Such a normal day,
Such a normal living,
Such regular experiences,
But it's a new day and I know it.

The big lesson today
Is not to learn how to recover from a disaster,
Or how to live after a catastrophe,
Or how to keep on the happy moments.

Take a look on the left,
What's on your side?
Is there a special light beam
And an unusual position of some furniture?
Have you noticed the real color
Of your living room,
Of your hair,
Of your floor?

In such regular days
Living is granted,
Mediocrity is given (not in a bad way) -
It's just life on top of normality.
What's left for such days
Are the little pleasures,
The small tones of changes
From one day to another
Showing us through little,
almost imperceivable, gifts,
Of the grandiosity
Hidden within tenuous pieces of averages.

If I were to write to you
I'd write that I love
That we were what we were.

I'd write that we went far,
Maybe too far,
And now home is a distant idea.

I'd write I love you,
But that'd be silly
And rather difficult to deal with.

I'd write that I see
Through the fog in front of us,
And that would be a lie.

I'd write that I understand
What we've become,
In a vague, strange way, I do.
(Just don't ask me how we became)

I'd write tough truths
That tells  more about myself
Than what the words really mean.

I'd write how wrong I was,
And I was, terribly,
And nothing would change,
Unless time proves me wrong.
(I'd have to be wrong to not be wrong).

I'd write ****, powerful words
In an elegant combination
But they'll just be the air in the wind.

If I were to write...
What would it change?

When I left town,
I meant to come back,
To turn my village
Into a great city,
Make it flourish,
But I'm not there,
And I ain't coming back.

My old street is my name,
My neighborhood, my family name,
Its lake is my busy calm place,
Its morals, my constant fight.

A town always wanting,
Waiting to be,
The capital of county,
The capital of the state,
The capital of hearts,
Trapped with a small
Megalomaniac obsession,
A misplace inside a panic room,
The dream of a solved traffic congestion,
A myth of buildings and skyscrapers,
A proud town,
Proud of all citizens that left,
Proud of all you can find in there
That could never be found three,
Proud of a growth measured by irrelevant mesures.

A great town,
Hidden in a beautiful valley,
In the middle of no paths,
More peculiar each day,
With decaying ideas
In the exact proportion
Of a growing population.

There is many of it in me,
But there's nothing there about me.

Love just for a moment
Is to love forever,
Even if love is over.

You set my riot.
Time is not relative. It's just our choices.
Time is there,
It doesn't even notice us.

I don't like what we became.
I don't like to have done what I have done,
I don't like watch things from distance,
I don't like that your eyes cry my tears,
I don't like that my pain hurts you.

But there's no more to the world
Than the world.
Is this where we came,
I either deal
or keep rebelling. I'll fight.
Probably.

I've just let someone in,
And, now,
I just don't know what to do
With all the spaces left.

I extirpate the existence from me,
Not into the void of inexistence,
But to now, where existence does not fit.