I am mostly disturbed
That's why they ask
what do i bring when they see me
They are the shadows of the night
Those who usually play behind the furniture
They are the insects on the edge of the bed
It is the wine that is piled up on a shelf
The neighbor who wants to enter by force

I'm doing well, I smile
Only the hours spent dragging dust
The cold of the street in the bones
Thanks for asking

More than anything disturbed I would like to tell you
I haven't been sleeping well for a long time
and that my chest hurts
That's why I like to walk alone
so you don't see me cry
And you?

Well, like anyone, you answer

But there is something that looks at me in your eyes
And I feel identified
like a mirror
or a kite caught in a gale.