This is the day I start looking
at, for and through life.
I look through the window
and I see an old brown building
that reminds me of my grandmother’s wooden spoon,
now I wish I can eat as soon as possible.
The building has a lot small insignificant windows
I start looking at them
and I wonder if someone else is doing the same.
I see different stories,
in every single aperture there is a life going on,
just mine stopped.
Then I spot a meadow,
I ponder if someone else sees it the way I do,
and I think how great running on the cut green grass would be,
then I muse on the bugs that live on that bright line of infinite,
on the ones that were accidentally stepped over
and nobody really notices.
I notice purple flowers
I want to pick one,
but then a magic bubble appears and embodies me.
I keep looking
this time for
and I find an alley.
This may be my forgotten trail
through the labyrinth of my thoughts
and I am just a lost fugitive wanted by my heart.
Where the hell has it gone?
If you find it,
it is not red.
My heart is blue
because blue doesn’t match with black,
and I don’t fit with monsters.
When I was younger they used to live under my bed
then they run away and invaded the world.
They are shadows of hate
I think you are familiar with them.
You saw one when you sat next to a Muslim
who was just praying
and you hoped for him not to kill you
I lost track of time
and of myself.
I am on the edge of something new,
but then I look at the sky,
I feel empty,
I don’t know what to imagine,
I am lost