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— Rudy Francisco

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I have this thing where I get older but just never wiser...

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Just a poem i made...

There was water once:

Silky stream of flow,

cutting lands in a number known, less than four.

Room where nothing grows, barely thorns

and simple crackers of dried mud.

There was water once, and this plain picture is not what it was.

But you heard the story thousand times.

Past ain't turning back, we are not here to tear the scar.

Silky flow flirts with sun, screams 'hello' to the world.

And I'm worried.

It’s going fast, this stream is conscious of time.

I wish I could say I’m brave enough,

to get in the flow,

to release my veins from most of the thorns;

then I’d be a river, bonding these and other shores.

But it’s going fast.

This stream is conscious of life.

And it’s winking me in goodbye,

because I step on the borderline.

One foot on the dry, the other on the damp.

And my lonely thought was: there was water once.

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Saturday mood

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I´m not sure of what is this, but i feel it like the clash of the emptiness and all those mad feelings after losing a loved one, knowing we and all our loved ones all will end up in dust one day, yet still hoping for something, that maybe one day all of that madness will make sense.

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I'd rather be lonely than be abandoned.

Poetry can't get hurt, yeah maybe that's the stable relationship i've been craving on.