not for me.
The distant sound of a plane alone, but
like this here.
Not for me.
The cone of light amber to a lamppost in the wet,
company to hours of waste paper forgotten on the benches.
Not for me.
paint that stains the fingers,
refuge tired of residual life of a clown painted on smile.
Not for me.
The hot air that becomes current
and a close parenthesis, but making the point.
Not for me.
The flash used to close the violin in red cloth,
load life of an artist to the street said yes.
Not for me.
Trails colorful city,
that remains static in the objective of a long exposure.
Not for me.
The curved line of the horizon,
that without steps ahead of you and stop the unnecessary travel, staying away.
Not for me.
A kilo more on the shoulders and down the bluff,
useless shortcut fastest, but close.
Not for me.
The white light of the full moon,
silent expression of black pride in the excitement of the night.
Not for me.
The time delay that numbs the start,
clear reference to a free choice of courage.
Not for me.
Dress your thoughts with new skin,
unchanged for the surface and let them live on your face.
Not for me.
dry your hands from the hail of time, that smooth
would still dare to present.
Not for me.
Chasing smiling my enemy,
giving one last attempt to remain so.
Not for me.
I still would dress me,
invulnerable waiting to answer every night, not so convincing.
Not for me.
Circulating fluid would refer my best
gear and spoiled'd still life, feeling end.
Not for me.
I'd wind to clean up your steps silent,
felt whisper in the noise of my state.
Not for me.
I would be ready to repeat itself endlessly sea,
to polish every edge returning to the touch.
Not for me.
I'd fire to melt the most of your precious stones, making it the only
.
Not for me.
dark earth I would be motivated in your views,
this stable of all your location.
Not for me.
Draw circles in the sky,
together that makes us the center image and not to distinguish between begin and end.
Not for me. But
for you.
Maybe.
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