Fix A Broken Violin -bow -string

same (short) poem

Paranoia from Sandeep Chanda on Vimeo .

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braked, not without difficulty by the wet pavement, right in the middle of the bridge. Sweat cooled rapidly and mingled with the rain that has been around for a while I had soaked. Not achieved to realize how quickly that went through his side of the forest trees as he ran, but had arrived where he intended, but not know where to come.

His body began to relax, the cold did not care. It was a moment with his hands on his knees flexed, breathing the last moment under his chest that slowly stopped shaking. He leaned against the railing, looked down, the river moved swiftly, dodging chipped or small rocks. Small globes of white foam were born and died in such accidents. He looked ahead and found a sight that amazed him even more: the length of the river in all its glory, seen to lose in the horizon, or rather, between the trees that lined and gathered yonder. But what I call more attention was the rain became stronger and enveloped the landscape almost disappeared. The drops were launched almost without knowing from above, as well giving them, and part of that great river, which in turn would lead to a higher state.

What if I were a drop? Said.

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gray weather

slow time tour

As a cube of lead

anchored in the mud

To become unbearable

tables and cuts

With the spell that lies

plastic truths Write

Under blank notebooks

While harmonization in my head

summer to escape

As a reproductive

of unquestionable truths

That is as it should be

No questions anger farther

Curiosity only

For future dead cats

Repeat again and again

Facts your name

that shit is not a hymn

But singing and honoring

this poem is so ugly Because

born classrooms

Where were the twelve

Games as wind which

There

only I learned to say

Praise memory

to compete as hard

That almost kill my shadow

Drink

innate truth

The barking of underdevelopment

As the professor in class

acted laughing all

When he finished the lie

I ran to find my soul

I saw the bones almost

Under a bridge was

took me a couple of months

Throughout the conviction

Begging again and again

That my soul back to the body

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lost a step ... for its truth

Among wet handkerchiefs, a warm room, watching mirror where only dust and wearing a white bedspread nightmares at night, a woman and really sharpening their swords. A couple of months without seeing colors, black and white only, though occasionally make out the red, red and wanted it all.

The molded chair that every Saturday the same company that man, as if hypnotized, just looked straight at the lights and shouted from time to time after the ball passed the line of arch rival. He went to him and stroked him with his left hand, right was on his back, waiting. The guy ran the hand away, he said, crude, to put out. She covered the TV, and this he replied with a kick. All this in the living room and dark, dark, white curtains stealing the last light of day. Watched, hanging nonchalantly, a crucifix of a foot, with a Christ copper, dirty, whose attitude towards eco demolished inside the woman after each stroke. But he, crowned with white spines, only to listen to their own pain.

gazed at that fat man and bitter, sweaty and still, and knew that this was not the problem. And electric shocks were not in the stomach, those that felt when, at quarter past six p.m. ago years, saw him smiling in his car to get a look at his work. Now a lump in my throat which mixed melancholy for those days, for fear of their heavy petting was the replacement of those unpleasant feelings of nervousness and joy of those first months. But deep down she loved him. Since he could not speak and look into his eyes at the same time. That was impossible.

In solitude sometimes opened the suitcases, I had enough time to disappear. But that white dress, single, photos smiling with his family that day, and the applause that the company gave him to follow the tradition, we took the shoulders and not let her through the door. He was the

edge back again, and leave it there, getting drunk, cheating, watching television until late hours. I wanted to start talking, but drowned in the cold fear overcame her. Even so, his voice trembling, took the first step. Was stronger cumulative edge of his weapon.

But honey, if I love him so much, and I do not bring no flowers, but, yo, here I have a gift.

raised his right hand with the knife wielded. He put down his throat, and asked if he liked the surprise. Surprised the man began to tremble, and not to his hand when he lashed his wife for the mere fact of breathing nearby. Courage is had vanished, and his eyes were bloodshot, he was not this pride with him saying that he thought disgusting lunch. Now I just felt a warm moisture on his pants, which was not the same as your penis just zaceado back home after the adventures with her lover. Now its safe movement had been replaced by shivering gestures that caused his wife's voice, as if his words were the threads that moved to a puppet.

He took to the bathroom, and that made him put his head in the small space between the tub to the toilet. He wore fair. His hands behind his back to tie them, like their feet.

Man reeked of cowardice, she took advantage. He could make thousands of things to escape the situation, but was afraid to fail. Surrendered to the humiliation.

not say anything! ... Do not say anything, okay?

hand trembling, gradually increasing movement. Had begun to do what he had thought, but then realized he had planned only the beginning. I did not know what came later. He sat on the toilet seat, with the knife pointing at the head of her husband.

evoked images in order to finish something once that work had already cursed it up: She saw herself, with apron, ending to the toilet, or lunch, looking out the upstairs window, her husband off a car and leave with a kiss on the mouth of a woman somewhat younger than he, and more wonderful than her. But that's just the knife enough to take flight, not to attack. She saw herself, ridiculous, washing underwear, stained. Vomiting was cleaning the carpet, after their arrival near daybreak. It was only the second or third woman with whom he slept in one night. But his hand was up safe and fast, and slow down, trembling. It was not enough.

moisture Facing the floor, could hear the breathing, that above these unkempt mustache, went through a stuffy nose the man, interrupting the praise to the memory, the search for memories of the woman who inspired the term of history. The reality at that time changed. He felt disgusted by that guy. Never before, despite all experienced, had seen things that way. Disgust to pity. I no longer saw a man, just a worm writhing, sorry. He saw a man with a good job, who married and left everyone happy. Did not even feel hatred. It was easy to kill him but he deserved to live longer, so it becomes old and miss.

I left lying around and tied. She still trembled. Took essential to keep in his suitcase. He took the money he had saved, I remove her husband's wallet and pulled out the capital that was there. Man retired from the ring finger of her marriage gold, pawn it somewhere.

Do not even get me, I will tell everyone you're a rat coward, and tell them what you did.

came out a little more quiet in your home. Do not know how to drive, so why not just also took the car. He waited a few minutes the bus. Climbed. He realized that he had no coins to pay. The driver was a woman, and seeing her tired and a little nervous, smiled and let her pass. It was looking out the window, and with other eyes, ran to more than just shopping. I looked left back almost ten years of absence. Colors: green, yellow, blue, and a huge range that he had forgotten. The yellow lights of the posts were a gift of better times, the night he had fresh, and could only smile.

came to the terminal, and asked for a ticket. They asked where. He began to laugh: he realized that he had only planned the beginning.