hasta la

there is no such perfect horizon
as the one we draw
between black and white
of day and night
of sea and sky
the wet and dry
of cut and paste
salt and pepper
in the wounds
of our wallpaper reality

the cracks are always there
no matter how we hide them

there is nothing so ugly
as the perfectionist's nature
buying youth becomes increasingly expensive
as time goes by

so who pays?
for the beautiful wallpaper
that only a few admire

show me the cracks
i honestly prefer them
i see no horizon
in my vista

hasta la