Speed. Tell your own Razzmatazz

I have been thinking on you.  To be fair, it’s that I just come back to think again about you, not say us, it is a bit simpler since I may have realized that I never quit, despite evidence and reality are constantly forcing things.  Despite the fact that I´m still carrying away with me things that happened decades ago.

I know signals were fired up long time ago; I just like to feel I’m my own vandal.  I’m again where the 00:00 are born and I find very unpractical to run away just to find your shadow over and over again.  Don’t mind, hopefully not on a permanent basis; hopefully both things.  Not even against my own fears.

I saw you last day speeding.  Was that your hair after all?  Well it seems we both have hurry.  Do you know there is a Monkeys song called Do I Wanna Know? Every time I listen to it is a bit difficult pretend to avoid the idea of you coming into my mind. And I always ask my own the same old question, Do I Wanna Know? And suddenly I find that, I always knew it.  The nights are mainly made for saying things that you can’t say tomorrow day.

But do you fancy knowing how it is to my mind when coming to you?  Well rather unexpected, a de facto explanative darkness. 

I’m coming of age definitely, but when it comes to bittersweet approaches I mastermind my own pride in levels that amaze me.   I will not lie, I haven’t had enough strong to throw up my wallet, the picture inside and many other things linked to you.   Don’t mind MY LEO, I think he just exist in my mind not yours, so a classy way to cut ties it is, and of course not linked to you anymore. 

Descansas en un parque entre Denison y Oxford Road.  El viento intentara desprenderte de aquel puente en donde el tiempo se ha detenido y sobre el cual te sostienes de un último hilo.  No estaré para verlo ni tampoco para recordar que el solo acto de sacarla no fue quitarme un peso, por el contrario fue consumar el paso definitivo hacia la nostalgia y la justificación programática de la amargura.   Algún día te arrojaras y con suerte el agua estará congelada, solo para permanecer un poco más a la vista de todos los que por accidente crucen este camino.  Y correrá aunque no lo quiera.  Aunque otra parte de mi se muera y me condene a ser el vegetal del cual me salvaste por un momento.

Fue un final de verano, las hojas estaban verdes, las canchas intactas tal cual las recordaba.  No hubo una ceremonia predeterminada, tan solo corrí un poco previamente para poder sudar todo esto un poco más.  El no estaba allí, obviamente no.  Esto era un evento privado, tal vez el primero y el ultimo de este año.

Darkness may not seem a definition able to honour my thoughts, but as I associate it with cheap tales, foreseen lies, predictable behavior and coward demeanors, you may feel well rated then.  It is understandable why is not easy to see it at the very first sight.  It’s explanative on its very own.  I have had this feeling before; the fact is that I was not ready for ad hominem guiltiness.  Class act I must admit.

I was afraid at the beginning of being to direct, then I realize that as usual you will read everything that I write just to take it as another herd of inconsistent words, one after another.   Then I noted that it was going to be very difficult to understand if I take into account that you didn’t react to Pipe Dreams.  And finally, and most probably, you will never read this, except if I provoke it…. 

….And of course I will not do that again.   Nothing was coincidence at all. At any time neither any country.  I made my own batch of destiny when searching for you.  Even forecasting what you are finally doing.  Do I wanna know? From the very beginning I didn’t wanted to know about it.  And I won’t do it again.

I have been walking my own steps once again.   So if you ever think about me, I hope someday you will realize how I masterminded our destinies for a portion of time.  That there was no coincidence, and probably my own complacency and fears didn’t help me.  Nothing was undercovered, and despite all that, I choose to love you.

I can’t lie. You will find me hostage of my eternal despairs and alibis, scuba diving somewhere between Pulp’s Razzmatazz and Bowie’s Young Americans, and of course a Pilgrim Diary brought to anyone who wants to read it.

I have been thinking on you.  To be fair, I think it it’s not a thing that I would like to confess again, not to you.  And of course some outcomes are easily depicted.  And someone is going to care.