Nov 12, 2014


XI 2014

My hands are falling down
like a reed in the stagnant water.
My head stumbles
likes a bike that crosses the railroad tracks.
I'm all root that
chains himself in the floor.
Only heart screams inside me
Shaking the bars of its cage;
How far is it to the big apple?
How far is it to the bread and taxes?

Large lunatic, a metal rod
Cracks me,  with a howl of protruding audience
In the middle of the road,
The truck comes around the bend
Children, it’s called

A panic attack.

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