It will be exactly like a 29th of march. I will let flow this river of lava that burns in my veins and i will learn to fly over the flames, this must be the purpose of my life, to seek you hopelessly, without fatigue, to search and to endure, to take a deep breath, to breathe you in, to walk the darkest corners of my mind by force of the lung, and disguise myself up as eloquence, but without any more cuts, with no more scars, no more rain. Why dress as a martyr? There's is no point in looking through these jet black curtains, the outside world remains the same, and my inner disaster never dies. Pale and thin clouds will fall on my umbrella, all the clouds that were meant for me, that were building up storms and would hide me from the sun, that were suffering quietly, and would rain down on me, that would smile happy to see me play in small mountains of leaves every evening, and would blacken a little more to see my light decrease. They will all fall on me, and i will keep them in some corner to go and talk from time to time. They will speak of you, they will tell me of your whereabouts, of the places you frequent now without me, of all the possible distant universes, of the influential moons, and the misused time that still pends from my hands. I wouldn't want to have to release so many emotions, go to the center of the unknown, start being a little less weird, use the appropriate tools to calm these anxieties that often grab me by the hand and invite me to run away, or be my killer and then tend to the wounds again, enjoy the blood and its delights and then delve further, to get lost and forget for a while because this hurts too much. It will be a 29th of March. It has been written by the planets from their isolated mystery, from the place that shelters my dreams, where i will not be alone any longer because the days are no longer obscure, and there are no more eclipses or any kind of collisions in my head. There will only be gaps and shooting stars that i will hang from silk threads. Only this river that now runs towards me. It will be 29th of March. I will walk the trail, forests, mists, hundreds of voices that seek me, dark landscapes always waiting for me. And in search of lost time, alone, so lonely and quiet, sometimes i go back to the beginning. And i am less of this sad person that has only seen life at twilight, i am less of this person with a tendency to darken, with empty spaces, with nameless shadows. I am a 29th of march that keeps approaching.