17.3.09

over a year ago

was the corner of the same street. Now a site with ponds, ditches and water leaks. with fallen leaves are not well aware of where they came. and as a light in the evening and cold. Now with bullet casings and romantic fantasies when we read books in bad Castilian literature. I remember that bar with large windows, start to be drunk with wine felt bad as usual, and I too uncomfortable chair, pretending to understand that half conversation environment. murderers of children maimed, anarchists in metro carriages morning, feeling tired and pieces of broken bottles stuck in the rubber soles. phrases that we had never expected to say. now sitting at a table on the sidewalk, under the light and talk about things of long ago. the pretty girl who barely knew his father died three weeks ago. but there we were few. go into the basement with little hope. the thing is to try to steal some pornographic magazines full of ads and flee. the sky is gray. the streets are made of spray painted black. yellowing newspaper articles. then will we see from the windows near the roof there and start shooting. and you stop to pee behind the fences of a work. I am in that what we have sold is not really cocaine. anyway I do not drink the drink. I know it is frightening. in a room full of old records, you have to sell music to people, said. I dreamed of kissing Albertine viv. they shoved her into a container. they're laughing at everybody. the little one now says he weren't there when they killed the girl, let's see what they say now, if they really speak out now what they did to the girl. there're fingerprints of all. with the time past. to rest in peace. was in the yard of the abandoned factory, the brick walls, wearing a brown checkered suit, pounding a hanger that hung from a wire. of what happened to us it was only a few days, and we could not think of anything else. I saw the blood run. I remember that someone worked to get some pictures on the roof. I left them in horrible, I think I got to see them. half images are veiled, the lioness who caught a zebra, wilting flowers. unintelligible whispers, seduction patterns, trying to implement elements of mind control on each other. was the last time it snowed since a few years ago. at night the road was covered with frost, while looking for somewhere to continue to open. a corner with leaking walls and painted blue. anyway it was too expensive. is money which fucks everything. lack of money. get drunk up vomit, choke, fall down the stairs. when you go in a wheelchair I do not take care of you. I have no desire to return to the recruiting office. life in danger again. abdominal pain. trembling in the knees. repetition. stumbled while trying to step fastened on his coat. extinguish a cigarette in the palm of your hand. have open eyes and sad. enter the parking lot, roof and floor of metal together to begin to crush us. I have been accused of lack of loyalty. was exalted emotion, pushing the pace, instead of fleeing. seek information on the best ways to commit suicide. as the dead soldiers. go to your house. shoot me in the face.

3 comments:

Robert said...

inspirational, Lazare...this makes me want to get my ass up off the puter and write!

i missed your texting prowess round here :)

TICTAC said...

very intriguing, it is like your images translated to text.
i love your art, Lazare!

Lazare said...

thanks a lot. i love you.
rob - in fact this is a new version of an old text... but i'm starting to feel that writing itch again.

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