I'm living, come back later

I'm living.

come back later, around eleven,

when i have new laws

and the best disappointments to tell you

on the tip of my heart's tongue.

my door is closed.

for now

things that changed my sins,

pauses already tired of resting,

the sea, just the sea and laziness.

i'm living

and here it is just me and myself

in a time of old discoveries

and engedered dissolutions,

smart questions

and anti-songs.

still groping for the door,

i stand up and go ahead

completely incomplete,

absolute and entire,

almost frail,

almost.

but don't worry

if i don't come back.

i'm outside myself,

running away from

the things that die me.

karla bardanza

ps: it's not things that kill me but things that "die" me.