Without Root

Grey building of sudden homes
and half built dreams,
windows welded with your lies
and the sound blowing, between the wood,
wanting to leave.

Erupting to a town,
with more cows than humans,
and the sincerity that feeds
from your obscure eyes,

without blinking, falling
to the whirlwind of your ominous
cruelty, in your mossed
heart and misguided passion.


I continue through buildings, walking their
curves and painting their color;
forgetting your dances,
only seeing the company
of a town, ancient and lost,
in the fingers of my experience
and the branches of my strife, you- already
nameless and windless,
will be left between the fields,
losing the opportunity
of feeling this grey building
and its beating stone.