If you look at me in the park destroyed, fucked up, lifeless, a corpse that moves by inertia, you know? Leave me, leave me on that bench smelling of cheap liquor, the sun is calm today, I see the clouds, they are my therapy for Sundays, I'm fine honey, that's how I meditate.
Of those sunny days in the city of the mountains few things remain, the seasons seem gray, the city seems silent, where is life? It left in the last car I missed.
Between cold and heat I fight for my life surviving your physical non-existence, maybe your soul too, running along Avenida Universidad because that 209 has left me more stranded than nothing. I calm down a little, while I watch the subway pass over me, it's beautiful I think, I light a cigarette with matches I stole from the kitchen, I move a little away from the children, and wait for another route to pass.
On campus the mountains claim their territory, in the distance they seem to want to get rid of our concrete. Mederos, known for its bears that come down in search of food, filthy and processed food, what value do we have in front of them?
At the exit I like to walk downstairs, get to Wal Mart and finally smoke another cigarette, I repeat this every day until the weekend, I do not always want to go out, sometimes you just want to contemplate what is going on inside your mind looking at the fan on the ceiling. I have never opted to go to a psychologist, I have never considered indifference to life as abnormal, I think it is a lapse, and that people are too conformist that they are happy for everything easily, maybe this way I could have happiness, or peace, but at the moment my demons talk while I find myself with the drink, your memory, or the clouds on a Sunday by the park.