The Tenses of Time

May 14, 2011

Here in this white stage setting

Surrounded by déjà vus

with a clock without hands

We’re lost in the forget

Here the stars explodes

Giving to born the hours

Simple and static as my soul

Like fugitive letters in a unopened letter

Here we are guilty victims that can’t overcome

This Stockholm syndrome

Controlled by our own lies

Fools by our own desires

Here is where with the quicksand of imagination

I realized for first time

That past and future

Are the same mirror where phantoms lives

If you ask me what place is here?

I will tell you that is the place

Where we count all the seconds, the minutes, the hours and the days

Trying to escape of all the things that one has lived.

“And we find excuses for don’t live sheltering our chimerical fears”