Hold on...

[...everyone avoid you  
but cordially of course  
whispering about a patient  
affected by a strange disease  
something venereum  
or whatever annoying  
like a cancer in the ass  
too embarrassing to talk about...]  
   
1)  
   
You will not find job  
at the employment office  
 
Only long queues slow  
frowning faces  
unshaven jaws  
and glances lost  
 
An empty eyes employee  
will certified your card  
   
Then you go to the bar  
the nearest one  
to drink in silence  
something strong and cheap  
 
The television echoes  
and the bad news  
buzzing in your ears  
 
You back home quite drunk  
enough social life  
until next month  
   
The friends fade  
everyone avoid you  
but cordially of course  
   
Whispering about a patient  
affected by a strange disease  
something venereum  
or whatever annoying  
like a cancer in the ass  
too embarrassing to talk about  
 
The compassion of others  
has a indefinite flavor  
between pity and contempt  
and you're chewing  
the taste of solitude  
   
2)  
   
The Market downloaded you  
one day already far  
"would be provisional!"  
You claimed around  
   
You should stand firm  
just keep composure  
to maintain and strengthen  
the structures in your mind  
the solid houses of knowledge  
inhabited by thoughts  
   
But the phone does not ring  
the mirror reflects  
Your face of fifty  
and the doubt assails you  
   
Awaken in the morning  
suddenly, with anguish  
at the time to go to that job  
you no longer have  
   
The feelings liquefy  
you are prone to cry  
and to self compassion  
   
The creeping weeds  
already own the village  
powerful branches and roots  
tearing the walls  
and crush the foundation  
   
The convictions fall powerless  
plunging into deep waters
of the darkest pessimism  
 
Thoughts forsake you  
a slow exodus of inhabitants  
fleeing from the town  
devoured by mold and parasites  
   
Even the inner desires    
buried in remote folds of mind  
leaves in a slow funeral  
cause nobody addresses  
a prayer of hope to them  
   
Then you collapse in  
and a wicked death  
takes you stealthily  
with a treacherous kiss    
 
No glory, no light  
the coffin closes  
   
Finally, a white coat  
uncover your skull  
and digs in the mud  
only finds your bones  
blackened by time and regret  
 
You R.I.P. on the chair  
in front a running PC  
still waiting  
a impossible call.