Imagine your self trapped inside an immobile body with eyes open that can see but can’t move, blink or cry. Inside your head you hear your cries telling the world that you are inside the body, feeling the pain, the cold and the scalpel. Just imagine... Tell me about the opaque black mirrors
of exotic nights full of psychotics dreams,
when we want to wake up from lethargy
that chained us to the dungeon’s wall,
where silence howls like tortured souls
suffering seventy thousand deaths
without having been born just once.
Tell me yesterday, not tomorrow,
because today I am deaf reading
in the shadow of a burn out candle
while silence are shouting inside,
like a tortured prisoner tries
to escape the cruellest hands
that wants to stop his last breath.
Tell me only the truth, trough lies,
because I can’t be a believer no more
in a world full of complacent wardens
and cobblestones singing marches
under the boots of bellicose soldiers
praising the tyrant’s silver coins
in the witches’ hour of the innocent’s night.
Tell me, you betrayed your brother
because gold had a better colour,
and not for the sake of a piece of bread,
he believed in you, as did you father,
and the womb that carried your blood
so after your birth you become a man
that make them to listen when you talk.
Tell me that your winter heart will pass
because we can’t live without a little hope,
that butterflies will be tomorrow
when the barren earth hit by the sun
gives us the desert warmth of the day
after a night of hands pressing hunger,
you was the one making the wrong choice.
Tell me every minute of your eternity,
because I will need to hear that my dead
was no something you expected tomorrow
when it was today not yesterday,
announced by the flapping wings,
without knowing its was also dead, of a hawk,
that feed itself from the carrion of your heart.
Tell me yesterday, don’t do it tomorrow,
because I will be not here today.
Among the men and women, the multitude,
