The Post Office

Don’t worry, sometimes this is just the way things are, we’ve been eating the same meals every day and the radio still plays the same old songs. I guess we both got somebody else in our minds. The truth falls before our eyes and drips onto the table again and again. Welcome to nowhere, th a t ’ s what reads on the sign. No common ground to stand on, so where do we go from here? -The road ahead stretches for miles and miles, every line on the asphalt rolling through the rearview m irror incites the sound of the sirens, I look up at the white metal ceiling as I dwell upon chasing a walking hurricane. The wind deserves praising for sweeping me away from the dirt a nd ashes of our temple into somewhere new. Oh she has the most beautiful of names, but the blisters on my hands tend to speak aloud, they would give me away so e asily and unlike you, I’ve wised up and scorched enough to be looking for an unjustified cause to play with fire. Hope your journey is as pleasant as mine, as for us...

One of these days I will be as gone as I could be, so you can go back to sleep now darling, because we may never be, and this is something I’ve been told, right from day one. Within these words I am left to be found, forsaken and flirting with time, because silence won’t make it truer, and this is something I’ve known, right from the start. Out on the highway and into the shadowlands, when your night is eclipsed, I’ll be out of sight. You will long live in my memories, so sleep tight sweet dreams my darling, because tomorrow is all there is, and for me a new day is dawning, right out of you heart. Out on the highway and into the shadowlands, when your night is eclipsed, I’ll be out of sight.

Tonight the Post Office has decided to remain open a bit longer only to celebrate sweetly-crafted pop. An addiction I’ve had since I was a kid trading my lunch money for cassette tapes. (I’ll go further on this at some later stage, as this was a precious age of mine which I’ve always treasured). There are times when a song comes out of nowhere and it immediately let’s its magic unfold naturally, takes you through the smoke and then shows you where the way out, as a metaphor, is to be found in the form of a door that leads you straight back into the flames. And then the eclectic finale comes in. Impossible Germany Unlikely Japan Wherever you go Wherever you land I'll say what this means to me I'll do what I can Impossible Germany Unlikely Japan Fundamental problem All need to face This is important But I know you're not listening No I know you're not listening This was still new to me I wouldn't understand Impossible Germany Unlikely Japan This is what love is for To...

Not long ago, it’s hard to tell when, a beautiful cage, a window with a view stretching all the way down the boulevard, seeing the places where he hung around, weak and weary but lucky enough to have found a refuge to head to. It’s easy to take everything for granted letting conscience go astray. Like the things that looked familiar, everything was then moving and feeling out of place. On the frozen past he could not longer reflect or find those answers. Drown by the shocking truth of not having any strings to grab hold onto in a world floating on a wave, misty black and crowded with every passer-by’s darkness stains, their filthy pockets filled with dirt and their guilty eyes set on aeroplanes cruising high upon the overflowing glitter of stars and bars, leaving behind a steaming trail of emptiness, in an escapade cutting through to infinitum. Life is ever-changing. And helpless to understand how he became part of this mess, he left unresolved the question marks hanging down the invis...

Scattered on the ground, the garbage pieces render a pathway to his charm, climbs up the roofs and the trees above, keeping the beat with his four-legged march. His courage is at its peak, he needs no introduction, in his mind he's one hell of a cat. Waving his tail and bouncing his head he approaches this window we all know gives him a chill on the back. Puts his nose on the glass, then rubs his cheeks against it, he's leaving her a little bit of his mark. No much to say, anywhere is everywhere, everything is messed up. It’s not so easy to leave a message on her answering machine, curiosity killed the cat. Ambiguity is her name, pretending her disguise, another beautiful pussycat dancing ballet on her paws. A little feline angel with the devil in her eyes, she’d press her claws against your back to let you know she’s having fun, everything is alright; then leave a little fur on you to remind you that every time you’re gone, she will miss you much, and you will miss her so. Yes...

And in the night she became one with her thoughts and her dreams, realizing there was more to life than suffocating in the memories drifting on a pillow. She stepped out of a room, this dim-lighted gallery filled with the images she tried to forsake quietly, but the ludicrous laughter of those portrayed echoed in her chest, like the cut from a knife abusing through her chest, hastening the march of her heart, only to see it bleed and then collapse. The ruby red desire exploited out of red wine fermented by her sour tears, remains now decorating those rapturous lips on the portraits. It’s a disgrace and such a poor sight. We all are glad she closed that door. No one would have ever imagined one day she’d be taking her wings off the one embrace she always thought was hers, but her wings pleaded guilty moments before they were sentenced to drown in affairs that could not be explained and spread wide open, breaking away from the thickest knot ever holding back those feathers. It was time t...

Recuerdo muy bien aquel día en el que le vi por primera vez: era tal como hoy, nublado, húmedo y con un blanco en el cielo que se parecía a ese resplandeciente tono de las fotos tomadas con un tiempo de exposición alto. Yo había dejado de fumar de forma oficial por unos años y cuando lo hacia, era de manera esporádica y con intervalos de meses. Pues aquel día me fume uno. Mientras mi compañera hablaba de las banalidades de la oficina, yo contemplaba como el humo del cigarro se elevaba en espirales y se unía sutilmente a esa neblina cegadora, incapaz de evitar tal atracción. Fue entonces cuando entre caladas y la combustión del momento, su rostro blanco y mirada de dos perlas negras, emergió siniestramente acompañada de una carcajada angelical. El tiempo dejo de latir a su ritmo incansable para tomar un suspiro, dejo de correr hacia el futuro y se detuvo por tan solo un pequeño instante para apreciar el presente. Ella encendía su Lucky Strike y empezaba a hablar de las trivialidades de...