Regresando
Almafuerte
Returning
Returning.
Where my bones sleep.
The sun, with its slap, shakes my plexus.
Forcing me to reflect
That no one is waiting for me,
And how short is the life
Of skull boys.
Long are the hours,
When the moment is bad.
Clocks without hands bleed out,
A mess of silences.
And falling asleep is the primary
Of my elemental desire.
I seek sleep begging
With a thousand Our Fathers.
May
restful sleep come to me.
Or may
the extraterrestrial abdication come.
Life is not what one believes,
Or what one imagines,
It is what it is.
Just that.
The night will come to find me.
I will wake up to escape again...
