inexistence

There are stories that can be told

While I watch the time shifting under my sight

Creatures of the dark that don’t get old

As I try to find the meaning of this fight.

I think the people who pass by

Don’t change color neither their opinions

Just stare at the meaningless emptiness

of space and oblivion

their words split in two

like a river

my mind also splits in two

or better does not change in multiple identities,

my boredom is on fire

because of our misunderstandings.

A jack metal pot is our ground idea

Of laughs and hunger, of ipocrisia

Please let me tell you that if at some entity

(or a little something)

this poem wants to aim at

it is only the reflection that the light leaves on your hair

it is only the perfection of how you walk

the redundant sound of the air

between your voice and my talk

but if at something it wants to aim in fact

let it be the abstract inexistence of it all.