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Pell-mell

24 Aug

What is the time
soaked in a rain
of the past lives?
Looking for the future
we walk thoughts,
wearing wierd boots
on our heads,
trying to protect
clear cheeks of tears.
Unknown cities fly
above our homes.
We stand still,
surrounded
by fire walls,
taking from the labs
strange antiviruses
in order to protect
our seas
of sunsets,
of sunrises,
of departures
and arrivals.
Our fingers kiss,
sometimes,
instead of lips
in the moonlight.
We send strange spells
through our own Galaxies
Number Three,
Number Four,
and so on
to infinity
or back
to the beginning,
if we find a way
to set ourselves free
of the curses
that we would hear
from their mouths
if only the screens
could hear anything.

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