Days are sliding away in disdain,
let fall
between the cracks of
two endless nights,
days in search
for the bridge
across the abyss of nothingness.
Every day from
one empty station to the other,
laden in the crowd of passengers
waiting for their trains
to arrive,
reeling along the routes of reiteration
running but going nowhere
on the treadmill
of distance!
Days that no one ever even notices
like the city that sweeps her consciousness
under the meretricious rug
of a lowly conveyance,
like a city that smuggles her silence
through the breaks of fences
from one border to the other.
Like a light pole
that branches its leaves
into the darkness of an alley
bayoneting into the dream of a boy
through his eyelids.
A boy who always sleeps
under the windows,
a boy
who before suffocating beneath
the stale air debris
of the wakeful world,
saturates
in the breeze
of effulgence every night.
