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This phrase changes the meaning of things, I had it in my head yesterday.
It must be because it’s August and no one says anything. Someone wrote to me a long time ago: “August is a month disguised as spring,” and it’s true, but it seems that everything is already over, even the disguise has fallen.
If you go to a bakery and they tell you, “Everything’s over,” you go home with an empty bag, but then you know that the baker who told you that phrase was satisfied, everything’s over, he closed and turned off the light.
A phrase that vibrates inside, everything’s over, and moves in iridescent hues, that phrase seems like a beginning. Everything’s over, we need to bring more.
The flashing lights seem to announce the end.
Everything’s over, I get up and have breakfast, I fill things, everything’s over, everything’s over in the dining room as always alone, I have breakfast late, lunch late, dinner late while watching TV, no news surprises me, everything’s over.
I yawn.
I no longer want to answer the phone, I no longer want to talk to anyone but you, I no longer drink, I don’t go out, everything’s over. I shower, brush my teeth, lie down, and think, everything’s over.
I sleep.
I come back.
It dawns.
And it seems that everything starts from the end.
My life is changing, I know it.
I know it by the noise of that living animal that moves inside. It flaps, it’s awake, almost always it was very calm, it fed without complaining about what I threw at it, sometimes it was just the scraps of my life and that’s why it went hungry and even got sick, rabid and weak it bit and growled at me and without strength, it only had sleep left.
Sleep or die.
The animal has awakened, alive, wet.
Now it’s alert, it opens its eyes with me, it’s awake when I’m awake, we eat at the same table and sometimes I even pet it and it lets me.
Invisible animal, covered in scales, with wide-open eyes and a closed mouth.
It seems to have come back not to go extinct, maybe to reproduce, it knows there are few of its kind.
I let it be and lie down and wake up with it, with the noise of its enclosed flapping, and I open my eyes and let it out.
We go out.
In bed, I think, I’m going to write mentally from now on, without paper or pencil, without a computer, just with my eyes. I write mentally, nothing more and that’s it, I twist, if we had zippers from the pubis to the throat, I would slowly unzip them, my organs painted with words would sprout, now what do I tell you, I wonder, and I keep unzipping, I don’t know, there it all is, I undress and unzip, the zippers are produced in China YKK, it doesn’t hurt as much to open them anymore, I saw it in a documentary, everything comes from one place, meters and meters to open and close people, what did you think, open flies and closed dresses are just nocturnal illusions, meters of zippers made in China to open us up and be able to close everything up to the top.
No one notices. There’s just a noise, a spark, and we scatter with the zipper open.
Behind everything, someone has hidden another thing and so on, my life these days is about discovering those things and so on, infinite pastime of immortal people.
(after all, it seems I am)
Today I met myself (I shouldn’t) and behind there were others who also searched like me, and so on.
That’s how I entertain myself to pass the days without breaking anything, I just turn things around so they change, the cards upside down to change fate, the books from back to front, the bottles upside down, the smoke that goes down and turns into fog, all to see what’s behind everything, and another and so on, and so on.
Everything’s over, I thought once more, the days will now be bright with you here, I smile, I send you a message while the animal under my bed is vigilant, everything’s over, I repeat to myself, the gray, the heaviness of the hours, the harsh justice I imposed in the past, will fade away…
I wanted to write something more open and illuminated, like everything that happens to me outside the bed these days, but I think it came out very closed and dark, not to clash with this weather.