Silencioso

As calçadas esperam

tanto quanto eu

por alguém que as olhe
e não diga nada

Nós, que muito pouco nos dizemos, 

somos cúmplices de alguma ironia

Tanto faz se

quem tem boca vai a roma ou se

todos os caminhos dão em roma

Eu sempre acabo
na esquina da tua casa

A queda dos alpes andinos em lá maior

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Perto demais

palavras
rimei todas
e tive o que quis
disse tudo
falei muito
tentei
mas não demais
cansado
amanhã
tentei
não
demais
PARA!
assim.

Mote

A industria
é uma cabeça
que funciona
pra produzir
(mas a gente
costuma usar
só pra ser triste)