You counted days by their cold silences.
At night, wolves and men with bleeding hands colonized your dreams.
The last time I visited, you said you trapped a dead woman in your room,
who told you to starve yourself to make room for God,
so I let them give your body enough electricity to calm it.
Don’t be afraid.
The future is not disguised as sleep.
It is a tango.
It is a waterfall between two countries,
the river that tried to drown you.
It is a city where men speak a language, you can fake if you must.
It’s the hands of children thieving your empty pockets.
It’s bicycles with bells ringing through the streets at midnight.
Come up from the basement.
It’s not over.
Before the sun rises, moonlight on the trees.
Before they tear the asylum down, joy.
