Plea

You insist on doing the same shit
no wonder it's so easy these days to see you
falling to your feet
If there's no life to be felt inside your sparkless little heart
be brave enough to tell them how you're falling apart
and stop pretending there is beauty in the tragedy you built so far
Tragedies are nothing but sad, after all
if you just choose to hide when you're about to fall

But then again, you can't tell what it is like
To know where you're going and fail to stray from the path
We can't glow in the dark
and you would just disappear
without traces of glory, and any light nowhere near
I fear you will leave unnoticed
and then later your brilliance discovered
when it's worth nothing to you anymore
and others would profit on your heritage
and nothing would ever be enough
to fill the space born when you were gone

You insist on doing the same shit
over and over
but try just once to lean on this shoulder
and quietly listen to my speech

Bodies on the Air (A Spaceship Tale)

there was a spaceship
full of anxious people in it
and they couldn't get out because of this man
cruel and unfair
which ruled the whole place
and listened to every conversation
watching for each dangerous tonation
and destroying their plans of escape without a trace

every time one would look out and wonder
how soft and sweet the air and the breeze would be
straight on the face
one would be detected as a weak point
and would then vanish
nowhere to be seen, no visible disgrace
as the cruel man would act in the shadows

but the sky held the spaceship steady and smooth
whispering to every passenger
messages of victory and love
waiting on their next move

once an accident occured
as small holes through the glass surfaced
and people started gathering around them, shocked and amazed
for having a glimpse of such temptating and forbidden freedom
but he wouldn't make it easy, and he wouldn't work no less
so the cruel man spreaded lies about the glass
and the supposedly poisoning nature of the wind coming from it
but they wouldn't believe it forever
and nothing would stop their attack
when the time arrived

every time the cruel man would look out, distracted
they would talk in the lowest voice
about how the clouds would soon grab their feeble bodies,
and the wind would swallow quickly their faces
until they had no other choice
and the plan was reaching perfection,
until ready for the execution

so the sky held the spaceship steady and smooth
whispering to every passenger
messages of victory and love
waiting on their next move

the first november night
was the day chosen for the final flight
as they started to surround the cruel man while he remained asleep
trusting his dreams of power and manipulation
but then started the fight, one would hold his neck very tight
and the other, enjoying the moment, would twist his head aside
so that, with a final breath of defeat
the cruel man had no longer his living pride

every time they looked at each other,
the eyes translated disbelief
and everybody, still astounded, started walking to the broken glass
ready as never before to make the final move and finish the quest
for forbidden freedom, heavenly and eternal
so the glass broke down
and the air rushed in
and the pressure rushed out
bodies on the air dancing alive,
among clouds of bewildering desire
young birds learning to take flight

as the sky held the spaceship steady and smooth
and welcoming every passenger on the move
teaching them how to breath,
as free as the air they fell through.

Twenty Pieces

I am empty of words tonight
for a girl who never got her own curls right where they belong
for a bird who can't seem to reach back its nest all night long
for a puzzle with twenty pieces missing but still fitting nicely
for a deep sadness disguised in pink outfits
for a pizza slice with not enough mustard and plenty of cheese
for a hidden treasure forgotten, amongst love letters and jewel pearls
for a hidden scared child, buried deep inside a man's years
for a lifetime of burdens swallowed and ever evolving fears
for a baby with deadly addictions and a pretty lack of will
for a fake so real that gets beyond fake
for an invitation finally received when it's too late
for a crazy snake in living colors, withdrawing from our eyes
for a nonsense that I offer as the friendly advice
for a moment ignored right before you suffer what was warned
for a treacherous return to old habits
for a thousand times wishing it was her who called
for a ship sinking its way deep into waves of rapids
for a boy writing pretentiousness into random words
and calling it "art" at the top of his lungs

For a stray cloud still looking for its storm,
I am empty of words tonight.