Red Scars Shimmer on Your China Skin

The corridor seems immense. It never ends. We go too slow, there are too many doors, too many tiles ... We continue to go and finally we arrive. It is a white door with obscured glass. There's a black writing on it: "third pavilion". The lady opens the door and comes out from the room a light scent of alcohol. We enter. There are two rows of beds, all redone. And down in the corner there are three leaning figures. One strolls by the window, one is sitting on a chair and seems to read. The last one is on the ground, surrounded by puppets. I review their faces quickly. So quickly I didn't see them. I close my eyes and inhale. I start again, trying to see them. The woman moves, she’s talking with the patients, I think she's asking them to turn around, to show themselves. I'm looking into their faces, their postures, searching something familiar, something of him. The one who has stopped reading has light eyes, the other has the same height. The smell of alcohol and the heat give me head. My view is getting obscured. Damn ... I have to watch them. The lady approaches me, she embraces my shoulders.
- Did you recognize him? Who is of the three? - Her lipstick makes me sick, she's too close.
- None... he's not here-
I close my eyes and let the tears flow. I let those voices enter. They approach me, these poor souls. They understood that I am here for someone. They look at me like I’m the savior, as if I’m a god come to give them peace. And in some ways I understand them. They’re confined in here, in this room, the constant smell of alcohol, the nurses so kind and conscientious. So alien. They know that those are not their nicknames. They know that somewhere out there someone or something is waiting for them. Even a shitty life, it's better than this calm so empty. They want to be saved, but I'm drowning.
- Singin' it goes away… I am a soldier rifle on the heart.... -
A singing voice, a voice a little husky, a voice that smells of cigarette. - The life is gone... -
-Oh Frank, where have you been? -
Frank? I still keep my eyes closed, I savor this voice, the air moving, the heat of the lady who goes away and someone else who approaches me. I feel that he holds his breath. He stopped humming. A horribly familiar smell gets to me and looks like the oxygen I cannot swallow for so long.
- I'm not Frank. He is Frank-
I open my eyes and I think I’m already dead. I drown in that brown mixed with the green, I drown in those perfect teeth, small, almost childish. I'm drowning in your long fingers that barely touch my cheek.
- I know you - you say
- I know you - I say
Gerard