The hours are overwhelmed

The hours are overwhelmed in the summertime, the dreams are dragged sleepy. A drop of water it dries over petals. The sadness it's walking, along the dry powder, and one forgets the time. A kiss slips with the echo. There's no rain which refreshes the uncertainty of a desire.

It's riding the Nights between what was and will not be; between what is and is not, between the today without yesterday. It rides the pain, vomiting the poverty, the uncertainty of a home without sun. The blood spilled between dream, debilitates to the heart with a dying scream.

No silence when it beats the time: Between your soft and fresh lips, in the endless yesterday of the today. Present, today, now! It shouts the city; ranting, one listens to the big bang of a pendulum; in a clock that it doesn't mark …, Nothing!

What ideas, what anxiety! Insomnia without nights, without finding the anxious arms of your body. few truths stay, between the death and the life; hugging in an agonizing desire.