[ I am the recipient of nothing, gathering misfortunes,
Walking through atmospheres of love and decay ]
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The whispers of silence,
Call to reconcile my mind with torn visions of actuality
Known only through monotone escapes within airs
of approaching sunlight
Yet assuming a distant countenance,
So lost to my will and perceptions
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In skies of black,
I pray for the salvation of the stars,
For the arrival of a greater God
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So much about being alive feels like eternity,
Stagnant,
Where everything seems to be resting without me
Thinking of existence in different ways
If perhaps I am alive because the Sun saw me, instead
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In these longings of magnificent measures,
All of life seems irrelevant
When all I want to do is stare into the dark
When all I want to do is die right here....
Copyright © Juan Antonìo Thomas, 2004
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