It is a shadow without a beginning,
a perfect shape
that seeds the indifferent,
a shooting star
bumping into the vomit.
It is an ethereal wall,
a shield obsessed
with the roughness of the sea,
a detailed lie
escaping from the wisdom.
It is a sleeping watch,
a chain without oxide
that pulls away excuses,
the haircut
mastering the thought.
It is an invisible costume,
a shared gaze
overconfidence,
the sleep at midnight
floating in innocence.
It is a conversation without a listener,
a slow teardrop
that sails frustration,
the wind in the morning
lulling the fragility.
It is a ghost without a body,
a disappointed voice
with the fear of loss,
the forgotten land
fighting to born.
It´s all that
and nothing.
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