I was once a man.
Who did not act as friends, acquaintances or lightning traces.
A skin on a river.
Bones in an hourglass.
The time so never flowed into me like it should have,
like he knew how to do it with the others at least.
Neither does blood.
The seconds quickly dried the one that I became one day.
The minutes reminded me of it.
The hours to certainly regret this still life,
Visible in every mirror,
in every pair of eyes,
in every heart that smells the sweet business.
I've become a man.
Memory suspended from another who refuses me with this violence that was shaping,
still shapes the timid souls that approach us,
at least surround us to better escape through the most exhausted door.
I'm still a man today,
free of the greasy soot that chimneys spit out.
empty of everything that doesn't matter to me and worth gold for the rest,
I'm a difference that I'm learning to tame.
Lucid and savage taming.
Between controlled and latent survival,
Between the excavated trees and the rain that falls down to the ground that scatters it then.
I'm almost but do not quite despair the blur.