This is it.
An empty bank, a dust on the sidewalk.
A plastic bottle against your step,
a little brick up/down the street,
thousend stones,
but without sea.
A wish of a hand, a hand,
and his loneliness behind.
It is a window without curtains,
It is a dead rosemary on the table.
It is someone cooking with the space.
It is an unmade bed, dirty blankets.
It is a bath, a travel toothbrush.
Clothes on the floor.
This is it.
A walk by,reality wishes,
a sunset between buildings,not trees,
a cigarette between two,
a middle cuddle,
a growing moon, a kiss,
just a little kiss on the lips and a long goodbye.
This is it.
Take what you want, think what you wish,
you choose, but this is it, girl.
A stucked body in the middle of the way,
a taxi car passing by,
people smoking at the departure door.
This is it.
A thouch, a skin, a moment.
And the rest is on your mind.
Don´t look for, don´t wait for, don´t expect for,
´cause your expectations will be your despairs.
And you will feel so old and so tired.
Don´t make up anything,
It is the concrete road,
It is the electricity in the computer,
It is a song, It is a note.
Today is not your day nor tomorrow nor the day after.
This is it,
and as soon as you get it,
as easier you will see the end.
This is it, girl,
It could be a longer list of objets, pieces, acts,names,words,actions...but the conections between them are done by you,
and there is where you lost any sense of reality
and stars your mind.
Welcome to This is it,
take your time and learn how to breath wihout pain.
This is it.
