Money for a pain

I get on my Christian Lacroix’s underwear and my Calvin Klein’s jeans and fit my Hugo Boss’s sunglasses and go away from Madelaine’s place with a fucking headache. I keep driving around for a while ‘till I find L’Occitante and decide to spend some money on anything. I buy all kind of stuffs and pay with my father’s Master Card and when I see his name followed by a bunch of green numbers in the computer’s screen I look away. It just revolves my stomach.

Images from T.V.

I grab the remote control and change channels randomly and don't even look what programs are. There are no answers in television. Images, images. "Damned bastard", she skips channels, smiles without wanting it. There are no answers in television. Agnes changes channels frantically during ten minutes until she gets tired and leaves the remote control on the table beside. I remain a few seconds admiring her sweet  profile, her straight and small nose, the beefy lips and the closed eyes with the long curved eyelashes. Images, images. She looks at me, smiles me, and her look seems like a high class's heavy baggage.

Modern gesture

Actually it's been quite a long time since we're sitting here and I begin to feel that those red lips ain't gonna say anything about nothing...

Little poem

The breathing way very below our eyes,
walking through the autumnal leafs of Milwaukee,
jumping while singing my fancy love song...

Pacified animal

Daniel says … nothing. He doesn't say anything. He shrinks of shoulders, changes position, looks without seeing. The smoke of the cigar rises up to wrapping his head. I thought that he was going to say something. He was about to. I stop, turn around myself, look out the window, breath heavily. I rest at the edge of the bathroom's door. I light a cigar too, I'm in my underwear. I support my back to the door, break my knees, we look each other.
I see a pacified animal, a blue sight.

Broken words

It is written in the door, in the bath, with a red scoreboard.
The letters leak up to the floor, it is like a greasy and disgusting river.
They spread down the tiles.
In the floor they're no words anymore.

Dew beneath my feet

I look up, and I feel one of those clots. I stagger. There is a brilliant light in the distance, to more than one kilometer from where I am; in the city, far away. The light bewilders an instant, until I look away from it. My eyes burn. I feel how the blood turns back to my head. It's refreshing.
I continue looking at the land, the black and humid lumps.
Until now I hadn't noticed the presence of the dew.

Lightning in ShantyTown

Baby shrinks of shoulders, Baby shrinks of shoulders, Baby shrinks of shoulders, Baby shrinks of shoulders, Baby shrinks of shoulders, Baby shrinks of shoulders, Baby shrinks of shoulders and sighs. She passes me the cigarette and I shrink of shoulders.
And she’s on the bed now, thinking about nothing.
We hear some gunshots from outside and look each other and no one says anything.
Baby shrinks of shoulders again and I’m lost in my personal wilderness.
She turns out the lights and I know it’s because she’s afraid of something.
I turn around and, even with the lights out, I can see her glaring blue eyes, shining in their own language.
Right now she’s seated on the plastic red chair reading the last Vogue magazine.
But with her legs crossed, lifting and dropping her right foot, she excites me, then she looks at me, from the corner of her eyes, smiling scarcely, like a model, she turns a page and she hopes I say something, she doesn’t move, she remains seated, lifting and dropping her foot, she squeezes her lips, makes them play, she looks at me from the corner of her eyes, smiles, shows her teeth, excites me, I approach, she laughs, turns a page.
Baby shrinks of shoulders, and we see a lightning from outside.
She wakes up from her dream, naked and sleepy, and goes to the bathroom. I know she’s smoking in there.
When she comes back from the bathroom, she asks me not to talk to her; not a single word.
I get up and walk around the room for a while, until she winks me an eye and that’s it.
I approach her and she passes a hand through my cold face.
Now: her eyes landing on me forever.
A minute passes, then another, then another one.
The unbreakable hours passes.
People talking and walking outside our window and we getting deeper and deeper inside our blankets.
Minutes later: baby shrinks of shoulders and starts crying for many reasons.
The lights are out, the door locked.
Another lightning, another thunderbolt, another gunshot come across.
Deeper and deeper in the blooded blanket…
I can almost hear her breathing, by my side, without hope or redemption.
It’s eerie, supernatural and amazing.
My face looking out the window, my mind erased.
I cross, rapidly, to the other room.

Cold evening's breeze

...cold evening's breeze torturing me to death,
leaving my bones cracked in the soil,
I can only hear the Devil's laugh...
for I'm now walking without region or path...

Something that passes

There is an oversensitive noise between the wheat, a few meters away, like a little animal smelling out something.
A shrew, a ferret, a rate, a night serpent entering my ears.
My shade sinks in the wheat, up to the land, spreads out between the erect stems of the white wheat.
Something that passes fluttering, making a slight movement in the inmovible air.
I look to the sky and see the old shining moon.