Dementia

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.