No. 1

Me gustaría mucho recibir retro sobre esto, ni yo lo entiendo bien, pero me agrada como se siente, o como lo siento yo.

I see you, I really do
Your figure against glass
Windows of shattered impulses
You stamp your feet
I write, I describe
We sit alone in the dark, yet we bask in sunlight
Like standing on tiptoe at the edge of twilight
I see you grow old as you fall.

I hear you, I really do
Waves of singing and sighs
Your back begs me to follow
An embrace... Long forgotten, lost
I play with powder in the dusk
You sparkle
A smoking barrel, pointing to the air
I stand up and leave
And it ends.

Not King Lear

The wind is weak
It doesn't dare blow away sadness
It's too afraid to take anger
I stand in front of the tornado
It howls
It consumes
It breaks and tears apart
But my fury and despair...
They remain

Take my tears with you, I don't need them
Thrash my world, break my limbs...
They're a nuisance
I like you weak, show nature is powerless
Because what I don't mean to part with...
What I would have no console without...
I what I know you refuse to take.

Fucking blind people

Hunger, fear, anger, joy. Feelings and sensations are unmistakable, clear and strong, fineness and delicacy aside, if a feeling is not clear, then it's not a feeling at all. It's a mind trick, you don't love unless you know you're in love, and yet it can be mistaken for obsession, passion, strong attraction, infatuation, friend-love. Now everyone, will you kindly learn to keep your hearts in your chests instead of going around blindfolded, heart in hand, bumping with everything.

Damn, I'm angry.

Monologue

Announcement: Today's entry is presented by My Madness, what it says isn't necesarily true

So what? yeah, shit flies at everyone all the time, everyone feels like their life is miserable or boring or stupid. Anyway, our mistakes are our own, and everything we ever do in life is a mistake, no matter how happy we might feel we are, there was always a way for us to be even happier, and if we think we suffer because of someone else's deeds, it's not true, in no uncertain terms, if we are fucked it's because we fucked ourselves.

What's happening right now, the consequences of my actions, who cares if they are burdens that weight me down or phalic metaphores screwing my head? I did it, I deserved it, I made me deserve it, what I want means nothing, because I will never have it, I will always want more. Anyway, insanity is always a bad day away, so on the mean time I'll laugh, I'll laugh the laugh I like the most, the one that makes me shiver, the one I know I would not dare let anyone see or hear.

I say I have friends, I say I cherish them, I say I care, do I? Sometimes the relations in which we hope to find support are more source of distress than relief. Chew that distress down and spit it out. Oh yeah, that's my family alright, other beings to which I am uncertainly attached, an invisible bond that oppositely to what everone thinks is weaker than most.

 What am I do to? hell if I know.

Stuck wants

Ok, aquí hay algo que decribe una de esas cosas embotelladas, casi como coches. Hace mucho que no se me ocurría nada, y aunque la inspiración no es exáctamente placentera, no podía dejar pasar la oportunidad, de hecho es un alivio poder sacar algo por fin y es bueno que sea esto en particular.

Violet

Now it’s stuck in my throat.

It was just a sip, the first one, the sweet one, abruptly removed.
Violet drops fell down, I felt it, I knew it, just enough to know how exquisite it was.
Drunk and numb, my arms are stiff, my back grows tenser and a weight falls into my stomach. Time sprouted it, time let it grow and now it chills and withers, then refreshes and warms.
It was just a sip, enough color to blind the sight and turn off the brain. Burnt, frozen, torn apart, instants make it fade and grow again.

Striking images, I can’t swallow, I couldn’t take it, I can’t take it.

Welling up, bitter aftertaste, reminds me of sweetness, numbness and absence.

Struck

Foam

Crystals that fade and opaque brightness, shedding, paralyzing.

Congestion

Broken paintings

Halted music

It’s still stuck in my throat, violet drops and cold lungs, nectar untarnished, yet solidified.

Close and out of reach, the vial, violet vial.


(I know, el coso ese podría estar mejor, pero es el mejorcito que encontré)

Might be kitsch

Esto es una de las primeras cosas que escribí (por gusto) y la neta ya no me gusta, a pesar de que en su momento me enorgullecía (esto hace como 5 años) supongo que porque estaba descubriendo lo disfrutable que es escribir, así que por esa simple sensación que tuve merece ser desempolvado y publicado.


Réquiem

Luna llena y pasión corren por mi cuerpo, el frenesí del roce entre piel desnuda escurre por mi herida.

Dos cuerpos yacen inertes en un suave lecho de amor y locura, tras profesarse sentimientos con la intensidad del mar embravecido rugiendo a sus espaldas y el filo del acero dejándose seducir por los corazones que atraviesa. Llenando de espectros color escarlata la arena blanda, descansa por fin un amor, ya sin pena ni sufrimiento; como un tributo al pecado que cometieron.
La voz de una pareja de amantes termina con el más sutil de los suspiros y la brisa se lleva el murmullo de sus sollozos, dejando un altar en homenaje. Un réquiem de la carne joven e inocente que no puede vivir sin un amor obsesivo y apasionado. Se sostienen por puro equilibrio los cuerpos que no podrán ser olvidados, pues representan el amor concebido por dos almas que se amarán eternamente.

Brief inspiration

Fear of the duck

I hear better with my eyes closed

Raid

Just one bullet. That’s what it always comes down to, nothing more, and nothing less.

I hear steps, light’s dwindling and the crackling noise of electricity and broken glass.

Just one bullet, just one shot, and all chances point towards me fucking it up and Janice falling from my cold fingers. My lungs ache, someone’s blowing a balloon inside them, and my legs are toothpicks.

That’s what life is all about, an almost empty chamber going around and only one shot for the price, never the same opportunity again, always the bullet and Janice.

Shut your eyes old man, stop taking in your surroundings, stop thinking of your situation, stop fighting the pressure and take your mind elsewhere. Remember the steak you had for dinner, remember the sweet whisper in your ear before the phone rang, remember the soft strokes on your face and the face of that beautiful woman… no shithead, no use getting a hard-on right now, keep your blood in your brain.

Breath deep, remember, did you park well the patrol? Is your badge on?
Did you give her back the keys to the terrace? No, they’re in my pocket, shit.

Think clearly, the clock is ticking and the steps are getting closer, breathe, listen, one bullet and nothing more. What’s that? A trip, now’s your chance, take it, it’s the shot.

(loud bang)

That motherfucker was waiting for me, he’s looking at me in the eye and aiming at my head, bastard. My shot’s gone. Now why the fuck did I not get a second serving of that steak?

(loud bang)