Sometimes it takes a minute to laugh like crazy
like a borracha as my mum would say
(Although I seriously doubt she’s ever seen a borracha who laughs like me).
Sometimes it takes a few seconds to feel like you want to throw-up;
it’s not about food or smells,
it’s because you can’t stand anymore
Sometimes it happens slowly, and when it does
you just want to die.
You know you won’t be able to make it through the next day,
maybe one more day, but the entire season?
It seems impossible.
You understand that waking-up is a struggle which
requires an enormous fight that your mind and body can’t afford.
Sometimes a simple though becomes a poem.
It’s fast, you’re inspired and have the right background music.
You feel happy even if you write dark thoughts