the silence of this tasteless Thursday exceeds normal...
if I had the clairvoyance of the optimists I would find pleasure in it,
would feel the peace that hides in the absence of noise,
would pause the carbonic sobbing of an inflamed heart,
I would make him ready to withstand the blows of tomorrow.
but far from it, I think I am aligned with a painful realism,
something that doesn't ignore that thorns don't turn into roses,
someone who goes against expectations
and prefers to immolate himself in the fire of true passions
than to triumph in the festival of velvety lies.
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