Looking

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,

be careful,

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

black inside.

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

blowing up.

Sorry,

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

again.