Like the counterweight of a metronome

white printer paper on brown wooden tableToward unstoppable chronostasis

Like the counterweight of a metronome,
creeping in,
Flashes of life splash through my days.

“Sequences.
Recurrences.
Infinitesimals of existence multiplied like bacteria.

Sequences.
Recurrences.
Restless timeless frames.
Snapshots hung up like old rags,
In the darkness of an old score.

Sequences.
Breathing. Continuously.
Recurrences.
Will that breath of air always be the same?
Will it be the same sucking of a winter’s breath?

Sequences.
Straight in front of me.
Always straight.
Always.

In the cinema of a small town,
(in prime time), they finally show my life.
Recurrences.
Thousand times,
1,000 frames.
Sequences.
An infinity
millimetrically spaced
By infinity.

And here I am,
Who knows,
hidden (like an apostrophe) between the credits.”

Between the last chime
And perhaps another note:
The interminable monologue
Of a thunderous silence.


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