A Cup of Coffee

August profile

I am still gray, dark blue. Sometimes I think I am a fool. Sometimes I know I am not.
My world has become the size of a matchbox.
My world has no names, no signs, no wise designs, no songs, no rights, no wrongs.
I am still rain and cloudy skies. But it means no tragedy.
Someone said that history repeats itself always as a comedy.
Someone said there is no end if there is no beginning. Why should we always look for sense on senseless things?
Why should we look for a pattern where there is no scheme?
I am still thorns and fallen petals. Sometimes I think I want too much. Sometimes I know I do not.
In thirsty times, I don't fall to the temptation to drown in the fountain I drink. I drown in deep waters.
I have been chased by a giant fish, a sea monster, no less.
I have heard the sireen shriek as my boat was overturned.
I am still wintry, still windy, still blustery evening. Sometimes I think I can take it all. Sometimes I know I cannot
I am still chilly, a wanderer of the frozen plains of the South. A prisoner of the wild. My cage is made of vast open spaces.
My world has no sliding doors, no winding corridors, no hiding places
for the shapeless, invisible woman, dressed in red.
I invite the peril in.
I unveil the mystery, reveal the obscene to prying eyes,
and I offer myself no alibis

posted by Livia de Almeida @ 9:49 PM