maio 06, 2009
5 p.m.so it's 5 p.m. again, and you greet the hour with despair. it creeped up on you, the sly, untouchable... thing. where was I at 5 p.m. fifteen years ago? standing in sunny grass? fidgeting? was it midwinter? how healthy were my bones? the family photo doesn't show. what was I thinking? fifteen years ago's when they started to give up on the whole family photo thing. the best thing they ever did if you ask me.
i'm still not sure about my bones.
6 p.m. Just a laughing proof of your failure. for if you know it's 6 p.m. and you suffer the fact, you're a goddamned loser. you're worth as much as the time you toss out the window. mark my words. winter is hell except the air moves and things get a bit chilly. oh yeah, and the billboards write drooping poems on themselves. i'm pretty sure that's how we get rain.
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i can't rely on time anymore. my watch committed suicide, a perfect little human being only clockwork. i feel guilty because my first thought about it was ''phew, coulda been me''. but i guess i'm faking the guilt a little. it's not that i don't feel for it. i just think it was bound to break sooner or later.
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5 p.m. i'm not really glad I can choose what to do with the hour. It seems to me that someone else could have chosen more wisely. but there's no someone else at 5 p.m., so here we are, chap. i'm all yours.
now show me the right way.
maria 5:04 PM 2 vociferando estavam