poems about stories, dwindling and swinging, lost but free.
poem 1 listen to a song
A drain, adrenaline time spent, forces itself into the sand.
Spellbinding, after many years, this rain washes down me from above,
Breaking me down, and I assemble and disassemble, scrutinizing every piece
Before I make myself again.
a toy dispenser, breaking free from the manufacturing chain,
Pieces of camouflage to be sold.
The monotony breaks harmony, and misery loves company.
As a stable molecular equilibrium results, I do anything to stay away from the void.
And I know the first time will be the sweetest,
so after that, I will know how the chord structure feels,
And the sounds will not be unfamiliar anymore. I swim alone, in the instinct of it all,
Knowing things for the first time. Not waiting for later, I go in,
Thundering, crashing into the crowd, smelling salt all over myself,
The vibratory sequences which follow later are set to gyroscopic thrusts,
Ancient, planetary G forces. Getting the vibe? The odor is of a melodramatic evening.
I finish swimming before the song ends, when I go back in, the water will be sullen, dry.
And it will not be fun anymore.