I was sitting in the middle of the desert. A bottle of rum and a thousand steps upon my feet. Tired, like an old car that is not able to left the city behind. All the roads I walked are now growing on my skin. All the sunsets I missed are now bleeding on my cheeks. I am a lost star in an infinite universe.

Madness, that was madness. I felt the heat of the sand, I felt the warm of the sun, I dreamed about water. The rocks were singing a song about goodbyes, but their voices didn’t sound like Sinatra’s. I was a broken rose falling in front of the heart of Nevada. There was no one there to pick me up.

I was sitting in the middle of the desert. Under a never-ending indigo sky I was still breathing. The world seemed about to end. But I was fine. I had my poems.