Once again. Neither the firstnor the last. Once.
How many are in this room? And how many have we?
We are two sides of na hourglass, shaking the smooth sliding of the time.
Tell me when you were old. I just don’t know how long this sand runs out, how long she will be dropping grain by grain… Sometimes you feel like being carved in the shape of a mermaid, in Copacabana.
How many women have you? How many diferente colors you painted with your lips?
We’re two coninents bordering the same sea, feeling the same salt and spotting the same ships. Tell me your trips to the Moon, to Mars. Explains why you never came back. You chose to plant tre
es in the craters of the Moon. She’s going to spit in any accident celeste, create light and shine at night. And cry, the Miss Dark.
Your kids sleep? Your parents don’t you agree?
Are the past and the futura. Moving forward together on a timeline. The implosion between birth and death. Let me know how was submerged, another uterus beings existence between guts and lymphatic vessels. How could you let this empty place, impregnated, embarassed, with pain the knock on the door uncertain and tangible.
Are you going out? You’re going to bring him here or do you miss him? Are arrival and departure. A life walking in circles and seen in vértices of flat sheet of paper invented and pale in a dream af origami. Tell me how to fold that corner, as you can always bend at your feet, why do you need this fight. What gives you that power does not belong to you, it’s not yours or mine. Chases you to laugh in your face when you model home, with steps already lighter, some swings, tired of being a man.
Do you recognize me? Remember our commitment?
Will we always be here for each other? To dance when life is empties us? You’re special. Went far beyond your lips, your teeth, your ocasional tongue… I was more than your body…
Don’t turn back on me! You’re just a slut!
Come back… Sorry… I’m drunk.
Cell number: +351 917755051