When will I be back?
I've been away for a while,
Further and further
Every time I delay a return.

I'm losing my sense
Of distance,
I start to forget an old accent,
New monuments replace
Those old ones
That once reminded me
About discipline, order, status:
Like modern art replacing baroque.

How much my steps define me?
My twin is only different from me
Because we've been in different places?
My comeback still bring me back
To whom of the many I've been?

History is not only what has been,
It is the shape of today,
The idea of tomorrow,
An undeniable driving force
Pointing at some place ahead
We're often unable to see.

To be back
Is to be closer to the future.

Whenever I look at myself
Through the glass and platinum
I'm looking for answers:
Am I different than yesterday?
Am I older?
Do I look properly to whatever I'll do?

But I am the limit of the mirror.
My skin blocks the inside,
My judgment holds answers underground,
My eyes refuse to see things I don't want.

I am my own limitations,
I, alone, built my limits.
I look into a mirror
But it can only contain
Tiny fragments of past,
Never a glance of what will be.

What I see is not me.
My eyes and my teeth
Can only be seen indirectly.
There is no truth in any emulation:
My own vision is a trick,
My hearing, an apparatus,
My touch, nothing more than
My electrons rejecting your electrons.

The mirror is just a shell.
It will never contain,
Never be fulfilled,
Tells no stories,
Say no things.
The mirror is what you ask it.
An image so distant
Our souls refuse to enter.

Eyes that see no image,
Skin that touches nothing,
A life unable to die.
A concept so absurd we fall in love.

I had this urge
To go on a trip.
I never thought
About it all that much.

I just went
In search of sights,
Landscapes to see,
Bird songs to hear,
But everything else
Was just hidden.

I had a bag
With all my stuff
In case of emergencies,
To control a chaos
I could not handle.

I was stuck
Unable to reach any of these.
Too heavy weight to carry,
Too afraid to be naked.

The whole world was gray,
The sounds, suffocated.
The words, numbed.
The things, useless.

I realized the bag I carried
To be ready for anything
Was, indeed, nothing.
Just a weight.

I could walk,
But it was hard.
I could jump,
But it was hard.
I could sight-see,
But it was hard,
I could do anything,
It would be just a bag.

The prepared I am,
The adventurer I am.
The adventurer I am,
The wilder I am.
The wilder I am,
The more I explore.

The prepared I am,
The heavier I am.
The heavier I am,
The less I roam.

In the end,
I wander less and less,
I am more and more
Attached to stuff
I really seem it hard to figure
Why are they really here.

Our bags are never
Big enough,
Strong enough,
Helpful enough,
But they never meant to be.
They're just bags.

I am the one
Who wished them
To be the solution of everything.
The problem was in me all along
But I never got the chance to see it.

Whatever I carry
Is just my ******* problem.

Words cross me as a knife
In a certain kind of retaliation.
Right or wrong doesn't matter,
It only matters what people say.

I must remember
That words are not sharp
- We hear them sharp.
We let them cut,
We let them in our heads,
We let them overflow in tears,
Sometimes ours, sometimes in others' eyes.

But I carry the weight
Of bleeding someone else's heart,
And agonize myself as a morbid
And undesired consequence.

The dry blood begins the healing at some point,
Or turns to hemorrhage.
We shall take care,
Soften words,
Soften what goes out in the light,
Even though some cuts are inevitable.

The awkwardness of today
Is not how much we value
The ridicule,
But our capacity
To continue valuing it
Despite its growing abundance.

I can't understand jazz
But I keep listening,
Intrigued by it's messy,
Searching inexistent patterns.

I can't reproduce it,
Even if I were to play perfectly.
I feel my molecules swinging
To match the vibrating air,
But the precision of the notes
Is not enough:
The tones in transition
Keep the song going.

My innocence
Keeps me closer
To things I know about.
Jazz is more in me
Than any style.

I feel my head weak,
Trembling thoughts,
An imminent ache,
A taste of alcohol
Extending up to my fingers.

I don't drink for my body,
I drink to say hi,
To sign contracts,
To gain opacity,
To be rewarded.

Whenever I'm alone
Drinking isn't necessary.
There is no one watching,
Nothing to claim,
Just the silent fall off a giant tree.

I drink to be a cell,
A mimetic exercise.
An externalization.
A reduction of a self
For the sake of community.