I’m utterly embracing the wilderness within,
just checking each hour for my heartbeats.
I don’t actually know who I am anymore,
and The Lord wishes me luck
before I summon what’s inside,
what’s really important for me to disguise.
Shit becomes serious
every time I want to close my eyes
to the things that cross in front of my car
that are always dressed in black,
as if light couldn’t catch its sight
although I can, and I can’t understand why.
Dogs bark at a close distance
even though I can’t see where they come from,
and ladies in grey talk to the dead
and they tell them every day
to pray for my intellectual decay.
I wish I could borrow some love,
I wish I could talk to someone
who does not care for how I was called.
I wish I weren’t alone forevermore.