Remorse.

I feared you would rot every corner of this town. I seriously feared it. That your stench could cover to the last of its steps which are mine and forever mine. But in the end your corrupted and bitter perfume couldn’t fill all its passages.

And I met new roads and routes covered in white oil paint stones.

And they all blazed from their insides. Boiling vinegar, disgusting me and burning my nostrils.

Look closely! Not a phoenix anymore, but a reptile in shedding skin.

Do you know how it feels? Not all good.

Knowing that I gave you what today should be mine.

Do you know the difference? You never were a cure.

Only madness and vile mirage. You are an abyss.

But how could I tell you? And what for?

That’s the problem: It took me too long to understand that I needed to understand nothing.

There is nothing.

And there isn’t a beauty as stunning as seeing it all as I do now.

And I burn what was given, having still a thousand sunrises.

And my Roman Empire burns, with no one to play.

And the voices of my past hide in the Antilles.

Oh, Saint John! Make this river my tahara.

Such an atlantean baptism, tell me if I’m worth it.

I loved you.

But that’s merely a memory.

Ever thought of something long gone and felt ashamed of the person you used to be?

I loved you.

A memory.

I loved you.

Merely a whim.

After knocking for so long what else could I do?

Fuck, I did love you.

You may have loved me.

And maybe that’s the reason why it concluded as it did.

Drowned in lies.

Because I couldn’t reveal the truth claiming that you are and forever will be a hoarse voice in my shoulder.

The demon that whispers me in memories every time I lose my North forgetting my own name.

But it was all flesh, and the flesh goes rancid.

And your thorn ulcers.

Your voice now gangrenous before the voice of a nuisance.

Morbidless, healing.

And your mouth now slurps all the bile.

No more of your time obstructing the way.

No marks in your name.

Do you know the difference?

With you every fantasy was a retreat.

Important, yes. As an empty bottle is.

Vile vice, unhinge. Old habit.

Resuming as shortly as possible:

I may recognize your face but not a thing of what hides behind. Wasn’t that what I once devilishly loved?

I hope you don’t give a fuck, even if it frustrates me… You would be wrong if you thought I only remember the dark side of your smile.

Without it being lost time, at the end I wasn’t true.

I lived asphyxiated. Fearing.

You were a pillar in the storm, but never my heaven.

My boat is again anchored, and I will be forever untying knots with lies and excuses because I waited too long to get rid of them.