24 hours day

here we are sneaking around like ghosts, under the bight pale neon light.

start of a brand new day, yet everything is the same.

life is cooling down now and the same picture comes to my mind all the time, yet tomorrow it's going to be a long cold day, longer than the old days, yet a 24 hours day.

riding far away.

the place where nothing happens

sitting under the cold of the electric lamp, today writing the story where nothing happens.

all the faces looking at me, kind and warm smiles passing by while i'm trying to forget about the duties of my life; duties i accepted reluctantly with open arms; duties that now stand on my way and i can't find an option for.

at some point of time, not too early, not too late, the words jump out of the screens and a certain gloom of expands over the aisles turning heads and turning voices around in anger and confusion when the clown strikes with his threatening crap and it only makes me laugh, but my hands are busy on a different issue.

just when i thought i was going to turn the corner and turn my way into a new horizon, all of a sudden i go around to the same place i started years ago, only this time i will embrace the contents of the wreck and hold on to them, i'm not going to run away, i will go down with it and make everything mine, because it is my life anyway, because i choose to have it this way. i will see her walking away, and i will let her go.

just speak your mind, let yourself run your mouth, it is all about it.

doesn't matter if you are full of shit, or if you found a fountain of profound intellectual inspiration, just run your mouth and let everybody know what's on your narrow head, even if we don't speak the same language i can still get the meaning of your bitching and that's all right, i have no problem with you, since you don't mean anything to me, just don't tell me about your guns.

so another day ends in under the cold of the electric lamp, in the place where nothing ever happens.

when I get old

...and one day i only stare at their little chubby faces and they make me smile.

things in life start sometimes fast and brutal, and some times soft and calm. many times the start is full of joy and cheering, and when the end comes it's so sad and dark, specially when it comes together with pain and suffering, and the things left behind are so tender, so alive.

the day goes long when the evening receives the moonshine, and our thoughts move along to the table celebrating rituals we never shared before, then opposite to day, the night goes short so soon followed by another frantic day jumping around, sweating and breathing heavily.

and in the beginning, and yet at the end we are by ourselves. and the things we feel nobody else does, and those moments are when we become our true selves. how i wish i could go back to the age or innocence, when i could fly in the wind between pyramids and talk about "when I get old".