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■ The oak
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Drunk,
Drowned, like a microscopic fly inside a megascopic glass of whisky. The whole fluid sinks into my anatomy and some eyes are watching me Clearly, Nearly. I got a nightmare every time I imagine about the ways To make you know I am not the lamb You used to play with… And I seldom feel a hero, Suddenly got a fear of The things you will tell me When you see the real face I got for you. Take me out and I will spill All this fluid right into your face And my sting will be dug Right in the edge Of your heart Inside our hopelessness. Written on December 23rd, 1991, in Santiago de Veraguas,Panama.
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