I fired God
I threw away a love
To build a void
In my soul and in my heart.
The words I say
Have no shape or tone anymore
The sounds now become
A dull lament.
While among the other naked ones
I crawl towards a fire
That illuminates the ghosts
Of this obscene game.
How will I tell my mother I am afraid?
Who will talk to me again
About bright tomorrows
In which the mute ones shall sing
And the boring ones shall stay silent.
When I again will listen to
The wind among the leaves
Whisper the silences
Gathered by the evening.
I can't see anything else but
Glass imps
Spying in front of me
Laughing at my back.
How will I tell my mother I am afraid?
Why haven't they made
Great rubbish bins
For the days that have been used
For these and other evenings.
And who, who will ever be
The bouncer of the sun
The one who, every day, pushes him
On the scene in the early hours.
And most of all who
Brought me into the world, and why
Here were I live my death
With horrendous anticipation.
How will I tell my mother I am afraid?
When the rent of this idiotic body
Will be expired
Then I will have my reward
Like a good mark.
I will be cited as a warning
To those who think it's delightful
To play ball
With your own brain.
Trying to throw it
Beyond the established limit
That someone traced
At the edge of infinity.
How will I tell my mother I am afraid?
You who listen, teach me
An alphabet which is
Different from that
Of my cowardice.