lately

i've been reading books upside-down
trying to put my heart on proper time inside the microwave
to burn my mind and soul
properly.
 i've been washing clothes and forgetting them inside the washing machine
until the day that i wake up and get the feeling that clothes on the sun and among flowers and birds
worth it.
i've been dancing alone inside hookers street clubs
making the fetus position inside the swimming pool
quietly.

i've been trying to talk to the moon.
without breathing.

screen lips.

all of me 
is all for you
my eyes
not that ones that everyone sees 
that ones that only I see
blurry eyes
eyes of the soul
my lips
lips of plain words
my ballerina smile
my hands
not that ones that everyone sees
fairy hands, hands of affection
my body
my heart
my hair
my tears
my strength
my fears
my courage
not that one that everyone sees
rare courage, that no one has
all of me
is all for you
i'm a cinema woman.

blue.

if a little bird could speak
he would say that she is lost forever
that is no more redemption
he would fly until the end of the ocean
that point when you stop and punch your face on the wall
to belt out, with birds lung.
the killing moon would be strong as ever
the wind as well
she would be with shut eyes, a black bodysuit,
drinking at the bottle
dancing on the rocks
no more fear
no more chains
just waiting the blue bird to scream
he would fly until the end of the ocean

to belt out, with birds lung:
this blue girl is lost.
she's
lost
inside you.