viernes, 23 de diciembre de 2011

intentando lo aspero


smell it
something in the air tells me
you never give up
rain as usual
but even you wet your lips purple
tell me what color is your umbrella?
The last night we saw you undress
carrying sand on your feet
18 seconds of the sun
so hot, is so beautiful
with that bird in the air bumping
hang out with that step barefoot anywhere
knowing you'll never be late if you do not know where
My roof is getting wet
You can hear it?
maybe you can jump a puddle lying on your bed?
I do not, but I'm dying to try
and not as the judge stuck in your office
or a healer in the land of worms
seeing yellow floats your boat
seeing jumps in his yellow suit
stuck at the crossroads
as a blind man, a stranger and a dull
take the music elsewhere.
jump the pond,
Get wet,
let the mud wash the sand off your feet

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