An incomplete entry

Holy fuck, an actual rant entry!

How do you stop yourself? How do you break the containment? Is there a way to break up the dam and make it into a stream again?

I need a valve, a way to discharge all of that which I'm tired of holding in. I'm not even sure if I'm in the right most of the time, I might just be giving in to my own sophistry. I someone has ever thought "it must be a pain to be next to him" well, it's even more of pain to live inside me.

I like to think of myself as a byronic hero, to call that my brand and perhaps my justification... do I deserve such?

I'm tired of getting pissed at my environment on a daily b

asis, of being so judgemental, of trying to stomach my frustrations and my opinions, of trying to avoid pushing the wrong buttons. And yet, because I need to do all of that is why I've always concluded that if I were entirely true to myself I'd only manage to exile myself... in a more tangible way than I do now. If only I too could destroy the world, and create it anew... Oh damn, the goosebumps.

Even more, those things I hold on to that seem like they could give me some relief, that could help me not to choke, they fade or crash, one by one and I feel like I know none will remain at all, no matter how much it seems like they will.

I can't handle this right now, I can only weather it all until I can busy my mind again in the task of finding at least the freedom I want. And now, a true Cheshire Cat.

Flight Attempt

And so, it strikes. You untap the plug, the river breaks the creek…

Solitude that fuels insomnia, insomnia born in yearning.

Desire, desire, silence is never broken. That which you expect, and you wish is there

Fear the future, feel the cotton in your heart, let it drench your blood

Letters in the dark

The unlit lighthouse, call the ships in

The unsafe dock, fail the ties

The water is rushing in.

Anchor, pull the ship down, it tries to leave the dock, but the anchor pulls

The foreign martyr begs, and the lighthouse fades

Swell and swoon.

Howl the quietness, insomnia that fuels solitude, yearning held in desire

Smash and crack and shine and polish and laugh

It’s all memory and dream, crossfire of delusions

Waft among delusions, taste the mirages, fear the laughter

Breath and shiver, hold in the shame, fret and regret

Break the mast.

Words in the dark, look around, feel around

The door is open but sight and courage elude, delude, deluge

Here comes the sound, the sound that you flee

The sound of relief, surpassing.

Desire breaking quietness, yearnings unquenched, solitude unchanged.

Sigh, senselessness abounds, repent.

Futility and unconveyed message. The wreckage is done, unmaned and unmade.

Rot…. And wait.

From "The show must go on" to "La commedia è finita"

Número 2

Mantente erguido y estira tu sonrisa, pellizca tus mejillas y tal vez disimules esa palidez tan mortecina. No cierres los puños, salvo que quieras invocar a conspicuidad que por dentro te estás empolvando, rigideciendo. Aleja la antorcha del dique, ese cauce no debe fluir...

Autor Invitado

Ante lo notorio que nos resulta el hecho de que el número de lectores frecuentes de ambos es más bien escaso, mi compañero bloggero y familiar Aureliano Castillo (León es apellido compartido) hemos decidido hacernos invitados en los blogs mutuos, a ver si en una de esas nos hacemos de lectores "mutuos". Ahora una breve bio:

Aureliano Castillo León, nacido el 18 de

Octubre de 1989 se desarrolla desde la infancia en un ambiente artístico, con envolvimiento principalmente en el teatro y la fotografía. Se desarrolla como ávido lector y entusiasta escritor desde la infancia y gana varios reconocimientos, entre estos el primer lugar al concurso de cuento "Érase una vez" del Ivec; a los 11 tras su experiencia en la realización del largometraje "Tiempo Real" decide dedicar su vida al cine. Con este matiz, de cine-teatro-literatura, se puede disfrutar en los textos de Aureliano un tono y una voz que merece ser escuchada y disfrutada, su blog "Soledades FIccionadas" iniciado en Abril 2008 continua recibiendo los productos de su inspiración.

Por supuesto, junto con este texto, invito a que entren y chequen otras cosas escritas por el, aún más, que comenten, porque eso de sacar cosas y quedarse a ciegas sobre con las opiniones de quien lo lee deja un mal sabor de boca, y peor aún, empobrece el desarrollo.

Dicen los Sabios

Dicen los sabios, amiga

que al fallar razonamientos

debe darse uno la vuelta

y dejar el sufrimiento...

Cerraste las puertas, niña.

Encerrada a cal y canto

por la ventana sonríes:

Sube, te estoy esperando!!

Pero portas, sin embargo,

en tu mano traicionera

la llave que justo antes

me ha cerrado la puerta.

Te contemplo desde afuera

y te digo lo que pienso.

Tú me miras y me llamas:

¿Por qué no hablamos adentro?

Sonriéndote yo lloro;

nunca he entendido tu juego.

Me hablas, dices que pase

pero me cierras por dentro.

Dicen los sabios, amiga

que al fallar razonamientos

debe darse uno la vuelta

y dejar el sufrimiento.

No pienses tú que me escapo.

Sólo me alejo, despierto...

No dudes que si salieras

hablaríamos del momento.

Mas si aquí paso mis días

observándote allá adentro

se iría secando mi alma,

quedando mi cuerpo muerto.

Y dicen los sabios, amiga

que al fallar razonamientos

debe darse uno la vuelta

y dejar el sufrimiento.

He aqui la foto del artista, no se dejen engañar con las apariencias, solo tiene 2 años más que yo (20) y el link a su blog www.soledadesficcionadas.blogspot.com

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.