there is a pumpernickel waiting for me.


by Caio Fern.
———————————————————————-

It is a way to pretend to the world this is walking while I am marching in my head…. but God knows I am only trudging,
trying to make my desires take place in a life forgotten even by the enemy.

And what do I have to offer besides my unnoticed presence ?
It is a way to pretend to the world this is walking…. but who cares?

Didn’t have a fitness store here at this corner? I thought that could buy heavy weights and make my arms so strong that wouldn’t look like mine anymore.
Could it build anything?

So there is this story I feel like to tell you but I don’t know how to start.

I won’t start, you will call me a liar.
All the time I say the truth people think I lie. All the time I lie, people believes.
Even I don’t know what is real now.
Should I believe on my lies to make it real or should I keep the truth to live a lie? I can’t distinguish my acts and intentions, can you ?

I am walking the dogs and it is a cold morning, people didn’t wake up yet.
I try to stop for looking to a purple flower among pine trees but the dogs drag me till the place they love to poo.
I love drizzle, I love heavy clothes with lots of pockets and love my dark green umbrella with details in golden cheap metal and wood.
Silent breaths seconds before dawn.
I love to tell myself I am getting older and there is a cup of green tea waiting for me at the kitchen with pumpernickel brot when arrive from this walk.
I love drizzle and cold and love the fact people love to complain about a such adorable thing.

I am only going to work till noon, in the afternoon I will workout till physical exhaustion , take a warm shower with that shampoo that smells so good, wear my favorite and most comfortable pair of old shoes, take my umbrella and go to church in the freezing evening to pray alone among families and couples.
Time is an illusion and makes more fuzzy. He said : ” Before Abraham was, I am”.
…eternal now, my Lord.
I love to pretend I am decent.
I love to have my crimes erased.
…make me believe I still worth some love as everybody else before I come back home and sleep the sleep of the forgotten.
I need a miracle. You are there. Now.
I am still right here.

———————————————————————————

http://www.silentspots.blogspot.com

http://www.meinwelt-22.blogspot.com

http://www.caiowelt.blogspot.com

 

 

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