just another ordinary day

How big and how dangerous can our imagination be?
How powerfull is the hability to create a whole personality out
of a few hours of contact?
What drives our brains to reinterpretate each gesture to fit
with what we really want to believe?
What are the consequenses of it?
Who´s to blame?
How boring it would have been my days if I had nothing to long for...
How harsh are my days now I´ve longed for the unexistant?
And how can you stop yourself from doing it when you´ve already
done it so many times in life?
What makes man insist on the same errors?
Isn´t the pain enough to hold them back?
Or is our minds so tricky it traps us before we can control the situation?

Why do we always need to be heart attacked to get poetic?

So today I woke up and felt that unfulfillable unfilled empytiness.
You eat your favorite breakfast and it tastes like expanded polypropelene.
You try sleeping again but it´s the hardest task ever.
You remember it´s your father´s Birthday and you have a great reason
to leave the house.
A phone call to an unconditional love.
The day is smoother already...
You put good music to play, the classics:
Unconditional quality
You drink more water.
You start getting busy with trivial house keeping;
It´s so confortably mechanic.
You come out of the shower and your mobile beeps you
the sweetest words of strength.
You are ready to step out of the house.
You feel the sun on your skin again.
And you remember it´s just another ordinary day.

... nice to see you're well... i miss you!