I KnowSomehow-CupOfTrain

I KnoW SomehOw...

I know somehow
where I lost it

Like a poison
with no taste
Like a poison
gently running cold in my veins

I know somehow
where I lost it

It runs with its misadventures
It runs knowing where to go

The poison of a dead face
laughing at me…
It’s your turn now Bárbara

To forget your wings
To forget how to believe
To forget your feet
touching cold old ashes

A cliché of knowing
A cliché of living
A cliché of feeling
A cliché of words

To know somehow
where I lost it

I’m tired
And I could have thousand dreams
and still not awake

I don’t love
I whisper only
The whips of feelings
The slaps of desire

Down on my knees
I fall
and let the candles burn
on the weary photos of people

Rotting and at peace with it

I touch my tears
I taste people
and leave them in peace
in my fucking camera
By capturing the lost ness
that they haven’t touched yet

Is today
Is tomorrow
It was yesterday
That the captain left the shore

He touched his tears
and tasted it’s own flavors

It wasn’t sugary
It wasn’t salty
It wasn’t
what he knew somehow
where he lost it

I blame all
On his dead face
And I dream of mine
… dead face

''Us dono gràcies...''

‘‘Us dono gràcies, Senyor, per haver-me donat una bona polla.
Vós que m’heu donat un pollot gruixut, gros i bend dret, lloada sigui per sempre la vostra grandesa.
Vós que m’heu concedit aquesta eina capaç de resistir impàvida les lleis de la gravetat, vingui la vostra Llum sobre el meu gland pelat.’’
-Sebastià Alzamora, Nit de L’Ànima.