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A valley
A garden
A vagina
A door.

A dream
A path.
A purpose
to explode.

Two hands (they are not yours)
One beat
in loop
There is no turning back , I am in with the light
pumping pressure, no rest, this is not a test
Release to take in - much deeper ,
One target, One focus. A valley, A garden, A vagina, A door. A vision
from before. No rest. Loop. Loop. Never the same, always on repeat. Loop.

I keep on taking deep breaths, and it is not that my heart aches, it is just pressure. And I don't know the way , so I can only go to sleep and hope to wake again. Exhale deep sighs all day long. Every day. I  know what I am here for.

A valley
A garden
A vagina
A door.

A dream
A path.
A purpose
to explode.

in awe she is love
and she has only known love
and all the bruises she's got  were made by and with love
and all she aims for is more.

I try to be clever and write about fuck
and try to mask it out as power play, but I know that facts are facts
and there is only one word
(it fills her up)

oh you little teeny whinny BIG BIG BIG (!)

un poema triste triste
que habla sobre un chico lindo
que se hace feo porque se niega a amar como es debido`
de una chica que se ve fea cuando se refleja en espejos rotos
una habitación que hace difícil que los cuerpos encajen
un poema lleno de silencios cargados
de proyectos inundados,
un poema triste

Julio 6, 2016

Tanta soledad 
de su boca salen flores 
que me llenan de espinas 
de la lengua enredaderas bendita soledad

marzo 31, 2012

On Time Travel

If I could go back in time and re-live everything I would go there, no questions asked. And I would change everything. Not because I dwell in regret. I really don't. My greatest treasure: my life experience. But because all those past endeavours, I already lived them and there is no point in stumbling with the same rock/ breeze/ light when you get the chance to meet and go deeper, after all, it is so vast the colour palette! I only want to be more. Still, to go back into a world of nostalgia, get the chance to see a sky you have already been acquainted, to go back there while having a much crisper sight and be able to see another side. What an interesting voyage that would be!

Oda a los necios

Cuando ya no quedan horas en el reloj
el trago ya es escaso y todos esos sentimientos,
ya fueron vividos o negados o vividos y negados o vividos tanto al punto
que el clímax hace rato ya se consumió

Cuando el color en las brochas ya se gasto
y te has concentrado tanto en las líneas que a tus ojos ya nada tiene forma.
Cuando la carne es trémula y el espíritu pide relamerse
Cuando ya no queda más que consultarselo a la almohada
o dejar asi, no mas,
que las cosas que han de morir mueran
y que las otras se queden como colgadas ahí en su fru-fru

Ese es el momento que reconozco a mis amigos
los que te dan de beber aun cuando ya no te queda hueso
los que ya de tan ciegos consiguen ver mucho más allá
los que cavan túneles a través de las piedras más concretas.

Los necios! Los necios!
Los necios son mis amigos! Pero es que no son tontos,
lo que pasa es que les sobran las ganas de ir un poco más allá
Son esos que saben que los fenómenos de encanto, esos se dan cuando ya nada queda

Que yo no estoy aquí para sentarme bonito y sobrar lo que me queda
del postre por que dicen que estas buena cuando te portas fina
Que yo me voy a relamer la cuchara y voy a raspar mi plato
y que si me quedan unas pocas monedas en la cartera pediré más!
Mas!
Mas!
Mas profundo!

The Wash

I am: a dark cloud
You are: a warm beam of light

why I yearn for you:
because a rag gotta be drenched in water
what you do to me: you wash me
and when you do: there is no shame
and so I: am able to believe

when you are gone:  I burn and I ache
now that is long over: I know
but you: fear your darkness so much
and I: can just give you permission to use the rag that I am

mi corazón palpita de modo caprichoso
me dice todo lo que quiere y yo ante la decisión, yo no se que busco.

Veo una mancha de tinta borrosa y permanente aparecer en cada disyuntiva
A veces es mi rostro el que reemplaza esta mancha, y eso me gusta
A veces es tu rostro,
el de un desahuciado viajero de semblante alegre
bonachón y pendejo, 
amable
Ahi te veo junto a tu nave erguida y flaman, bella
mas a la deriva,
en tu propia disyuntiva.
Y no se como darte la mano, por que coger la mano de otro entre estos cruces del destino y el libre albedrío, yo no sé, pero me da miedo que me la sueltes
o que vengas conmigo y en medio camino lo lamentes
pero es que mi corazón palpita fuerte y soy una caprichosa
y veo tu bote y veo tu rostro y escucho tu corazón palpitar en caprichosa crepitación
Eres tan dulce!
Asi que no voy a coger tu mano tan solo te voy a mirar directo
directo donde no hay mancha , solo hay ojos y mirada que desvaría por que esta en pleno baile 
y voy a caminar junto a ti
hasta que ya no haya como!
Hasta nunca! Hasta siempre! Hasta el próximo baile!

Dots, walls and whatever direction

Is it amusing? The lack of space - the , the, the, the, - the ever constant repetition of the baroque, of the 'hey, i am giving myself breaths to graze this ever consonant of sounds and movements and  - i am so confused i will trust this instinct, call it DNA, repetition of the same -. CLONE. Android of the 1,2, 3 Are you experienced?'
I wonder if I am.

I have been filling the same space of the same moment with the same person of no words, no gestures just space and time and WALLS this triggering walls that really talk loud! Walls that I know walls that I habitate walls that I share. walls. walls. walls. walls. This messed up walls of no security. Walls of you are so far away but for a moment I thought I could hear you and I thought we had touched like if we were dots forming a line. One sound.

I don't like crowds so I'd rather be a line made out of two dots, not more, just us two dots. but this walls and this other people and then my thoughts - and i guess your thoughts also have effect -  create even more walls. and it's like we were never forming a line, it is like we have never been close it is just that it seemed like we were. From one particular point of view. So I wish we could stay stuck in that point of view, in that place that makes us seem so close, like made out of the same sort of light. but i am here and in between this rather large number of walls there you are. and that is fine, I don't mean to be clingy but it is like time only puts up more walls and then I just think 'Why bother tearing them down?' So I just stay far and hope maybe to forget the sound.

So we were driving in your car, and all I want to do is drive in somebody else's car when it is pitch dark and just get out of town. Beams of traffic lights and a starry sky and I want to neglect the map and just get from point A to point, no, not to point B but I'd rather get to D and then circle back to A so that maybe we might figure out where B was. That is what I want form this physical world. but in my heart that is made out of soulspecks I want it always to be clear and straightforward and whatever string that may be attached I want it mentioned and scrutinized.
and I want you to call me on my phone even if I protest cause I hate phones. I want you to call.

Flawless Bitch is Colour

Didn't I tell you she was game? 

Bitch is flawless, I call her babe. 

and when my eyes meet her skin,

imma gonna tell you girl,

cause I'm of the sort that only knows grey

but there is a burst of colour and specks!

and I don't know if she is aware

about the smoothness in her speech. 

I can just see her flaunting freedom

as she moves that fat ass

and it hurts me to call her pretty

cause pretty is basic - small 

yet in the meeting of my senses and

all that cavorting,

in that space

I discover the bubbliness

of glitter confetti - piñata daze.

dont give a f$uck about whats tainted

I just have mind for what has tint.