Waking up
From a dream
Inside a dream
Where we
Were enough
We were
We're different
We're weary,
We've seen it
We'd beat it.

We'll do exactly
All of it,
But I'll do and you'll do.

I'll say it plainly,
No hidden messages,
No flourishing,
No adornments:
I'll miss us.

The shadow covered
Half your face,
Lighting up your eyes,
Forgiving your smile.

I could see in the way you look
The fire burning inside you,
Burning for life,
But not for me.

I saw my rusty ideas,
Ideas that did not inhabit my body,
That promised an impossible steadiness,
An unvulnerable reality
In an ever changing world.

It was not me,
But it was in me.
The footprints
I foolishly took for granted.

A litter of water
Turns into few drops of tears.
The difference is what we learn.

The little sillinesses
Wanders and drifts away
Until you realize
The color of your shirt
Doesn't matter anymore,
The car you drive,
The ceiling above you;
Truth is not cruel, it is only cold.

The roads are different today,
But they all lead
To same is destinations,
And my obeying foot walk by them
Just to not be stuck.

Those smell that once
One could almost touch,
Delicate in all tones,
Desaturated, are only smells once again,
Distant and forgotten.

We merged so strongly
That we've wrecked in our way out,
And now I don't look for fixes anymore,
I look on functioning,
Completeness,
I look the other way
(It doesn't look bright either).

Leave it all behind
Is just another way
Of carrying the weight

If you could only see the moon
I see now,
But our eyes are opposite direction,
With our sights never to cross
One another.

I remain the same child
Forever fearing being abandoned,
Being abandoned
For fearing abandonment.

We're as strong as our hearts,
We beat as hard as it beats.

I'm more than been lost in a dream
That I no longer dream,
And my heart tells me so.

I'm fragile
For my ears are shut,
Numbed or whatever,
But I resist.
I'll move on, I'll swim
And I'll fly if I need to.
If I want to.

Want,
What a strange word.
I never know whose voice it is
When it is pronounced.

The capital of vertigo,
of the hollow structures,
of the lack of space that evidences
the abyss between us,
capital of deviations
in our ways and looks,
of the events,
of circulation, of movement,
of the people oppressed in villages, favelas,
and occupations,
of the ugly smoke that arose
erasing people,
erasing
what has never been seen.

The debris are heavier
than the building.

We gotta break,
Gotta fall apart,
And amend piece by piece,
Gotta be vulnerable,
Gotta be exposed,
Gotta crack and glue,
And in new ways be arranged.
Gotta lose in order to gain,
Be last to be truly first,
Gotta die to be born.
The new is old,
Is been old for centuries.

Our stories are to be told
Even in things that tell nothing about us

I feel nothing capable
Of providing me a poem.
A weather report could be
As abstract as I am now.

In any instance of lack of creativity
I shall remember
My invisible world, although hidden,
Is there at any times,
Ready to conform
Ideas into anything sensible.