So that was to commute...

Some years ago, I decided

 to write in English

in order to have no words enough,

then to be honest.

The truth is

this space is full of the need to grab

those imposible things

I was obsessed to.

(Don't be cofussed,

I am still obsessed).

But crossing these years

I went through turbulence

I read books about the possibility

of traveling within dimensions,

and I did so.

Now,

since I have lost everything I was referring to,

It's time to find out what I took.

I have a picture,

just a picture in mind.

It's kind of a memory,

out of the time, out of the space.

Always appears commuting.

12 minutes, round trip.

Not the tags, not the flowers

not the evenings, or dinner rituals

—maybe a recipee does

definitely not the boyfriend

not the plans.

I just can recall 

a picture,

when I am definitely not grasping

my good old position, 

our cheer,

those words.

It's just

I jump over you

and you grab me back

so hard.

topic: adventure, business and some healthcare

One of my latest wishes is

a bundle of syringes

injecting a clasp deep inside of me

not to be out there 

not to be around

anymore.

I am pinned down

and my accomplice's enemy.

Making up with my own tears

what a crude thing!

it fits with the social media

yet not my plans:

One day I will make for timber places

scorching feelings until downing on you

downing on you

downing on you.

I'm giving birth another memory

lacking in memento

full of fasting, acres and tags

lot of tags, please.

I love tagging

I attempted you, I've never attained you

- obviously-

but come off it! tag is the only proof

i grabbed something

a swamp, a lover (a boyfriend)

in the middle of the time.

Simply put:

once, something was achieved

out there,

around.

Landscapes undermined,
Dungeos sharpened.

I don't know where to fit now
as the body was a jail
which i could run from.

My home never rained, and it rained.
My pain never was care, and he cared.

But if he cared, why he pained me.

Light halvened.
High-pitched silence.

Running has to come to an end.

Where to return now
if everything is wet
even the iron bars.

Throbbing inside your stomach,
gulping the rest of the epic cathedral of lure
it does not matter your answer.

I was the princess of a homeland of dizzling flag.

Republic of Being Choosen,
zigzagging your innermorst brain tissue,
fantasizing about a stupid storm

--not a big opportunity to anything.

I don't miss things that I will miss in dreams.

I will be back in town,
newspapers will endorse me (almost sure),
they will talk about your strange way of chewing.

I know you are disguising the shivering.

Throbbing inside your stomach,

you ate me,

enjoy the warmth of the heartbeat,

the only one you will feel.

Watching TV, I saw my mum
having a sprouted flower on the head
just because it's March or
there's a cachepot at the background of the room.

I mean: I don't mind if I'm not recognizing the beauty,
because I'm building up the niceness;
I don't mind if I can't reach the truth,
because I'm talking about the good things.

Maybe tomorrow we will be the dust
of a star that never bornt - which anyway could be just a Shallow
(sorry for the Pop Culture)
-no depth, no insights, not you-at-anytime
at everyone
at every birthmark
at every planter.
Or maybe today we are The Bright
that nobody knows where it could be from
measured by the scale of the dragon -who cares
I don't speak dragonian, I only feel a blaze.

Watching the magazines, you won't discover me
and it consoles me
just because it's March or
there must be a yield inside my mum.

I mean: I don't mind if I'm not beautiful
not even true
because I find myself out talking about the good things.

From my belly to your workplace
I'm just walking
through the process of becoming 

real

finding dwellers who wave me

then inmediately enter back their home

searching for a minute

to moult my touchiness

into an EXCELable and settled stuff

hiding a dying sparrow under a giggling

wow, it's quite difficult

but I'm keeping on the way

staying in silence

talking pragmaticaly

being perfect at your breaks

surprising you with a homemade lunch

perfectly laid out a cute soulless box

giving you my no matter everything

still made up, covered, daubed, waterproofed

treating to become bodily appart from my body

to get you this time.