GO OUT!
Don’t push your luck, look around, raise your head from the pillow, and listen to the Sound!
Oh little girl in the small room from the sixth floor
Hear it well, don’t be shy, the dead man had already passed by, upon his saddle he laid His head, as he refused to listen, he let himself to die.
Oh little girl in the small room on the sixth floor, under the blanket behind the door,
Look at the dancing moons in the painting as they shine as quiver from the reflecting Light coming from the small lamp nailed to the desk, listen to the call,
Of the day that crawls as secular, as tall, as a star that is fainting in a corridor or in a hall.
Oh little girl in the small room on the sixth floor
You walk away from the bed, you take a step or two, you shake your branches and the Dead yellow leaves fall down,
A shiver in the back, a step on the ground, a bit dizzy, unstable, you can’t read the white Jacket’s label, the water is frozen in your veins and as you touch the door handle, You fall.
Oh little girl in the small room on the sixth floor, listen to the sound of the aging stoned Lava coming from next door, to the pathetic laughter of a dark cloud, to the sound you Have always known,
You pull the chair next to your skinny, pale corps, with your shaking hands you pull Yourself together – as you have done from ever, a sip of water would be fine, you catch your pupils floating in the waters of your eyes, those old tombs those holy shrines, facing the closet with skull stickers and bony smiles, as the low drawer vomits black velvet and white satin upon which Arabic is written
Snap!
The door opens wide; a big mass of flesh enters in heavy pace,
Massive bridge over his eyes tying the twin shaking mountain ends, casting fire here and There,
Oh little girl in the small room on the sixth floor, with that calling voice you knew,
With that old-you you threw, you dismantled, you reshaped,
A fierce look to that fuzzy ape, you call “I’m out!”