Here I am listening to bossa nova, crucified by my deadly overexcitment

in this crazy weather we’ve been having. I have no money and I am hungry.

But I am cultivating myself, immersed in this stuffy afternoon so sick and

tired of being brave.

Tom Jobim lulls my heart and I don’t hope miracles as the trees stumble forward.

My head is full of voices and flowers and the permanent damages are written in

my book of myths.

I am inside myself dreaming in paradise, keeping desire apart, writing poems,

eating my own art and this moment of me with myself is a masterpiece. I can even

forget myself for eternity and you will remember that once, at least once I knew

what joy was.

Karla Bardanza


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