and the cold grabs you by the As because you've gotten it into your head that time is responsible for everything,
when it doesn't even exist
and care,
in the end, the cold has its own business; it can come and go when its muscles want,
i saw how the cold invaded india,
after you left, it snowed in every place we thought to go,
the locals went to the buddha to pray for the snow not to melt,
they send the cold back to us
to warm his little hands,
This is how the world grows from the cold and loneliness,
it grows into a lousy monkey,
In the last 500 years, westerners with acid in their fingertips, and
their bellies fermenting liquor, have built boats, airplanes, to take their loneliness around the world,
after that, they molted like snakes
... and love gets stuck in your throat like a fish bone,
you have no choice, you learn to live with the bone in your throat, even
when you kiss, and even when you
f...ly
and what business do hindu peasants have with the cold in the bones of an american, or a canadian,
a frenchman,
when it no longer attracts him to throw himself into the Seine,
but runs to buddha, to
export his loneliness,
... airports are always packed with abandoned solitudes,
who dream of flying,
flying
even to the moon, to forget about them, like a coat, to forget it somewhere,
somewhere on a stone,
or on a bench in a park in paris,
in a cafe decorated with fresh flowers,
and two cheerful lovers, hand in hand, who sit down, drink coffee, and look each other in the eye,
and, inkognito
the loneliness of the american tourist infiltrates their gaze
either to comfort them, or to scare them,
to make their legs tremble, to bring them to a common denominator,
and here is loneliness and the nitrophor that awakens our hearts,
the only one capable of raising kites in the wind,
an invisible glue,
loneliness is the only one who dreams,
walks through all the corners, wipes the dust,
and even digs to put the frost back into our bones, and again to take it out
like a tooth that hurts
the cold left on a beach
in Cucabaka country, awaits the only sunrise,
only the cold in the bones is still her friend, the fierce loneliness,
**** loneliness,
joyful loneliness,
sad one,
the loneliness of the japanese decorated with sand gardens,
so it's not blue loneliness,
the loneliness of the french is thrown over bridges,
taken to the moulin rouge,
the russian walks her among white birches,
rolls her on white nights, gives her ***** to drink,
the romanian cries after her, what if she leaves him too,
the latin invites Lonellies to dance:
- Señorita, there's still time for one more tango
... when
you are truly alone, not even the cold is with you,
it leaves through your kidneys, it goes to Angelina Jolie's country,
only loneliness crawls on your elbows looking for a mosquito to bite its buttocks,
but even heat can suffocate you when you are born with loneliness in your blood,
all the blame is on your blood type.
who gave it to you?
they say God has blood type zero,
those with blood type A **** loneliness,
what about B, they write to feed it with poems,
there are many kinds of loneliness,
for those who meditate, they say they stay in solitude,
a sort of alcoholic loneliness, only on the other side of the brain,
lights, so many cars, houses, and buildings around you,
you suffocate, but you squirm like a worm in your "maestro" brand bed and complain that you're alone,
some people call that loneliness when they eat or sleep alone, but I say it's not,
it's not,
as long as you have something to eat and somewhere to sleep, you're not alone,
even sleeping on the street, and picking up trash, you're still not alone,
loneliness is when you get on mars (like mat damon) and you use your feces to create chernozem soil, and want want to grow potatoes,
*
loneliness is just a coat you put on when you're cold,
and we shouldn't overlook that the planet is warming,
and the rains are flooding us, the glaciers are melting,
so neither is the cold the same as it used to be, nor is loneliness the same as it used to be.
it's just a coat that only we know how to put on,
how to wear it,
and when, and where,
and yet,
once, without wanting to, without anyone asking us, loneliness was born to unite us with the cold
(and one day you woke up in a cave, alive, with a stone in your hand)