an old theater
that is what I am
I have a curtain, a public,
fake scenery, useless and improbable
cardboard doors that won't open

the walls are tumbling down on me
I feel the cracks and the people laugh a grotesque laugh
as if white elephants are playing with monkeys
clowns are walking on the wire of justice
animal trainers snap the whip
for dead actors

today it's playing inside of me
Flight Over the Cuckoo's Nest
tomorrow Suicide Sector
they are acting on old wood pieces

I have no scene
one day it has become a dragonfly
it couldn't walk
but it flew magically
like a drop of water on a sorrow eye

white elephants are now playing with a singing bird chick
they are throwing it towards my majestic ceiling
the colors mixed on the hideous faces of great playwrights
it's only you now
with a smooth cheek, purple eyes
the black paint covers your chest

a mutilated dragonfly
fights with its wings caught in the colors
with which others painted your heart