Screen Liberation
Screen Liberation
Throw your screen out the window, not from hatred, but like an old skin,
let your pupils unlearn that light painted in lies,
all you believed was the world was just an aquarium with phosphorescent news,
and you swam like a sleeping fish through other people's commercials about life.
Shut off the sound of the pixel city screaming from the corner of the room,
beneath the glossy glass, fear has rented a permanent broadcast studio,
it taught you to confuse your desires with the nine o'clock programs,
and to count your dreams in episodes, not in real heartbeats.
Turn off the screen, but light up the balcony with stars and tiles wet with rain,
where the news is birds screaming breaking news at dawn,
and the talk shows are two clouds arguing, pulling at the same moon,
without commercials for detergents for dirty souls.
Change the channel: tune into the frequency of leaves and rustling paper,
let books give you tough interviews, without prepared questions,
let your friends be the living documentaries about their beautiful madness,
and love, the only film replayed infinitely without demanding a subscription.
When the last screen inside you shatters like a mirror worn out by ads,
the mind walks out barefoot into the world, with feet full of dust and light,
and you understand that "kill your T.V." only means to save your gaze,
to project your life directly onto the sky, not on the glass of a foreign object.
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