outlines on the hills ahead
antennas that will be useless
friends telling bad news
a salad being devoured
the same eight years, the same four years
the tree dancing with the wind
into the distance
a little girl playing with the mistakes
of little adults
some clouds behind the windows
some lies descending the lamp palace
lloking for an empty spot, looking for an empty soul
teasing the last piece of lettuce
rotating mushrooms with blades
missing colours and missing frames
kids walking like breaking some walls
smelling the first stage of his short independence...
leaves of air conditioner all over the place
reason made of treason
listening really good songs but not sharing them
i will kill myself seeing you eat so slowly
it burns me not being the reason of your finger tips
it heals me like a fire in the wound
that your mannerisms are imprinted in my day
i can't find a place with no trace of you
your paintings and drawings are all over the place
the air and the scent, the blade and the mesh


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