abandoned, deep-rooted thirst of mine,
pull me from the vortex of silhouettes
that have been resting here all this time,
each of them pretending to be mine,
and bring me back to my own undefiled sun.
my mind yearns for it with the voracity of an animal,
beneath my impulses I find the somnambulist’s quest,
a vision of a space where all veils become disremembered,
the empty ones, the tired ones, the innominate ones.
in the orbit of instincts, before my half-open eyes,
with burning claws, I project myself puncturing the black,
crushing against the swarms of ants that have swallowed the days.
biting flashes cut in from a misty, frightening distance,
while I step forcibly inside the memory of a future
which awaits suspended.
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