for my dear friend
Sometimes I dream that you die. I lie, I just did it the other night, after you wanted to kill yourself. I would like to tell you that when I found out:
I wanted to fill myself with tears,
And scream in the mode of a TV novella performance.
but no, it was not like that, the truth is that I was sitting thinking about the road trip we never made, the oils that were left pending, in life where we could not find each other anymore. I wanted to die but instead I only woke up for seconds, soon returning to sleep. Recovering knowledge was my way of escaping, of committing suicide from a dream.
I went back to sleep and I do not know what happened but, when I woke up, I wanted you to be with me, drunk or with a hangover, and a little bottle of alcohol, which we could mix into our coffees, walk, cry and laugh at the stupidity of the previous night.
Digest breakfast first, then dream. The internet now is the scene full of flashbacks, sad songs, and people walking out of their houses walking down the street, watching, listening to things that remind them of their loved ones. So, I felt myself, but without leaving my house, without bathing, with my espresso coffee reduced with coconut milk and bee honey.
The YouTube music videos reminded me of you and our bad jokes (more mine than yours), I looked at Leon Laguerri's foolery, and I remembered you. You two are so similar, I lie, but you both smile just as nice. In the same way selfish, because you both smile for yourself.
I see asses, selfies in the mirror, and urban art on Instagram, that you will surely love; but it’s well if you just sympathize with Facebook and fucking memes that all make fun of you and me and everyone. I see you on Facebook but I do not plan on talking to you, you're offline.
I try to remember that you are at work and not dead in your room, it is always the same, checking if you made a publication, if your girlfriend talked about you today on her wall, to know if you are alive.
Now you have been offline for 14 hours.
I do not know where I got. I wonder if you were online today and why you did not speak to me. I try to calm down and I remember that now I have nothing new to say. I would like to tell you that this was only once two weeks ago, but every third day I remember that at any moment it could be your last connection and I get scared.
It makes me want to believe in God; Purchase a Candle, a Rosary; Remember the Creed; Recite Hail Mary’s; Kneel for Hours; and ask that your life be over after mine.
So selfish, I am always wanting the life of my loved ones to end after mine.
I do not want to suffer, I do not want to know if you're killing yourself from fatigue at work or you're killing yourself in front of the mirror in your room.
I hope to give you Roses again, before I'm forced to take you Marigolds...
I wanted to fill myself with tears,
And scream in the mode of a TV novella performance.
but no, it was not like that, the truth is that I was sitting thinking about the road trip we never made, the oils that were left pending, in life where we could not find each other anymore. I wanted to die but instead I only woke up for seconds, soon returning to sleep. Recovering knowledge was my way of escaping, of committing suicide from a dream.
I went back to sleep and I do not know what happened but, when I woke up, I wanted you to be with me, drunk or with a hangover, and a little bottle of alcohol, which we could mix into our coffees, walk, cry and laugh at the stupidity of the previous night.
Digest breakfast first, then dream. The internet now is the scene full of flashbacks, sad songs, and people walking out of their houses walking down the street, watching, listening to things that remind them of their loved ones. So, I felt myself, but without leaving my house, without bathing, with my espresso coffee reduced with coconut milk and bee honey.
The YouTube music videos reminded me of you and our bad jokes (more mine than yours), I looked at Leon Laguerri's foolery, and I remembered you. You two are so similar, I lie, but you both smile just as nice. In the same way selfish, because you both smile for yourself.
I see asses, selfies in the mirror, and urban art on Instagram, that you will surely love; but it’s well if you just sympathize with Facebook and fucking memes that all make fun of you and me and everyone. I see you on Facebook but I do not plan on talking to you, you're offline.
I try to remember that you are at work and not dead in your room, it is always the same, checking if you made a publication, if your girlfriend talked about you today on her wall, to know if you are alive.
Now you have been offline for 14 hours.
I do not know where I got. I wonder if you were online today and why you did not speak to me. I try to calm down and I remember that now I have nothing new to say. I would like to tell you that this was only once two weeks ago, but every third day I remember that at any moment it could be your last connection and I get scared.
It makes me want to believe in God; Purchase a Candle, a Rosary; Remember the Creed; Recite Hail Mary’s; Kneel for Hours; and ask that your life be over after mine.
So selfish, I am always wanting the life of my loved ones to end after mine.
I do not want to suffer, I do not want to know if you're killing yourself from fatigue at work or you're killing yourself in front of the mirror in your room.
I hope to give you Roses again, before I'm forced to take you Marigolds...
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