An idea of future without the destruction of the present seems impossible. But the "unlikely" builds itself slowly. Too much for the people who needs to feel one more time before his dead a little of inspiration. Social motivations and intimate desires are not sufficient for a human: the bricks of the civilisation are supported by human dreams and human deceptions for the benefit of other humans. then, that intimacy is not selfishness, it is a necessary to survival. The promise of the transcendence. Really, trust doesn't matters because it no longer exists. One day, I will be alone (physically, one more time) in front a sunset attending to the night without nightmares or dreams. Without fears but with a lot of deceptions and frustrations. She will be in other bed and his son with a woman on the beach without her mother caring much about her thoughts at the time. Confidence in me mattered years ago when the words about my dreams could be inspire revolutions and poems against a civilisation of citizens but not of humans.
Tomorrow is an unfulfilled promise. There's not need for death to exist the oblivion, just the accumulation of hours and days and obligations in a daily search for an end. Without the possibility of filling empty pages with desperate words of freedom and anguish for a life with us but without one among all together. Twice, the words appears when the accumulated hours are counted and the gaze in front the mirror is not recognized. Love is just a convenient word in a civilised world. Hence, it's better to seek and enjoy what you simply have and want. Just desire and empathy, a coffee in the morning and the wine in the sunset... in the night, bodies that are in sex without words and mutual warmth with nothing more to do or say until the next morning. May be, a Saturday night to write about the lightness citizen life in blocks and buildings with the simple satisfaction to fit inside the real life attending the end of the days, paying bills and animal needs.
Obligations begins goals. Steps on a path where the end doesn't matter anymore and same the journey, may be a little the instant pleasure and the sensation of satisfaction in a world organised in requirements without perspectives, a world without a common vision, just the vision of someone that not even the words used to describe it say something motivational. Something to write a song or to join. A world where the frustrations without the possibility of the love ambition. A personal vision of the life with others beyond the next invoice and the orgasm. One afternoon to write and to sing and to dance in the corner of some space inside a standard department which is lost in the city scenery. In solitude, I search the space to be freedom in the mind to burn the possible directions that are laid out in a life plan. One afternoon to say in little sentences how the deep human life is terribly simple due to the social way of life. Those complexities are appreciated when it is too late. The corner is the only space within the city which welcomes the dream of a human believing in a promise. So the future may be is not tomorrow, but yes, it will be one day later, after the way of words in the poem.
Frustrations are more than deceptions. And in the politically correct speech, the words rest in optimism and in the same plural first person that suits. Objectives remain in convenience and happiness shows the best of the masks to not call any revolution. Obligations should be deceptions of the system to rest in peace and guarantee that nothing change because for the citizen is better to rest in joy... I want to sleep now, because sleeping is a scape for the souls; the same situation described in the old legends before the down of the minorities and now the emancipation of the system: the system for the privileges and lies in a world were is easy to stay static without any search, only our place. This corner next to the day, close to the tomorrow. "
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