come to me

Whenever I look to you,
out of place,
out of hand,

Always try
to free my pockets from horror
'everything will be ok
we'll trade the pain and sorrow'

Can't but hear,
like you said,
'something has been lost'

But their shadows glow like colours
after the moon

me dormí estando despierto

hasta que de la hostia

caí en la cuenta

volví a recostarme,

y el ruido me trajo de nuevo

qué quieres que te diga
¡déjame!

despierto,

que una vez sin sueño

se acaba el desvelo

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Su1wK7iCQfQ

the unconditional text

There he is,
right where you left him.
A faithful sacrificing religion
to avoid falling into the abyss of hope.
The unfruitful.
Now,
an obstinate wannabe atheist
far from conviction
claiming the right of happiness,
that, if unexpected things finally happen,
no waiting game's being lost.

The mending of mistakes
makes of life
a machiavellian game.