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.

A Guide Out Of Self Help and into Love

Don't be sad or self defeating, there is no such thing as 'not good enough'
fact is fact and you are allowed to be stubborn. Don't change your feelings.
So what if you are mopey and programmed to being love struck?
Does the lightning really harm you?

I find myself picturing a future composed of repetitions of the present. and guess what? You are not in it. You are not here. I could hold on to my stupid notions that are not mine. I want a house in which I can trap you. You know I did think of getting pregnant just so maybe I could have you. That isn't me. Those were just silly notions that flought into my head that really meant 'gee, he is slipping from my grips.' Why would I want to own you? That is not me.
I am loose.

I see stupid people around me, everyday. Prudes, fakers, them. And I am like them. Stupid people that need to talk their shit out loud because they can't listen to silence. I think I know what love is. I think I know what kind of love I want to give. I don't want to own you. Fuck that.
but there is this hole that needs constant affirmation- so I gotta tell myself.

I need to make this love worth my while. I think I know what love is. I think I know what kind of love I want to give. I believe in magic and affirmation and tracing invisible lines. I believe in all for nothing, in what the hell. I believe in hanging up just to make the call again (with a different message this time). I believe in grand gestures and not giving a fuck if they stare. Let them. Allow yourself to actually say what you want to say. and if maybe there is no one who can really listen, tell it to yourself.

I can be wild and authentic. I am no mistake just a work in progress. And if any asshole wants to pin me down for yesterday's actions/words, what a silly mother fucker. Guess what? You can't pin me to anything. I am Huayrapamushka. NatchaKee Tawara. Love is the only reason.  Don't stop. Embrace yourself for that is the only thing that is truly yours, but hey, Give Yourself Away! Paint it pink and black and shed a bloodstream. If you must bleed, bleed in kisses agreement. Love will become you and you will be the answer. And you will get there. So don't wait.

clothes and relationships

a mild fever
sprained ankle that takes f o r e v e r to cure
headache
I can't sleep.
Can't control my thoughts
my actions suck.
I want to rely on people.

It is common to lose clothes in the washer. Sometime in between taking of your clothes, picking it up from wherever you dropped it, getting it into the hamper, separating it by color and quality of fabric, washing it, drying it, maybe iron it (I rarely go through that hassle.), folding it, putting it back in the drawer/ dresser/ hanger, somewhere in between that long never ending process items get lost. sometimes they come back. you find them in obvious places. Sometimes it takes months maybe even years. Yes, really, years. But sometimes they are just lost. Forever.
And you never get to know how it happened.

Where did you go? And how come I keep losing you? And why I won't forget you once I realize you are lost. I keep on longing. For a different past, a nicer present, a perfect future. Keep on longing for a letter from you.

Why do we feel attachment to things? To people? Why am I so obsessed? How come every time I go to a store without money I feel like I want it all but when I get there with money and the desire to buy it suddenly becomes this impossible task? Nothing fits quite right. And when I finally find an item, and buy it, the excitement wears out after a few days and then I realize I decided all wrong. This shoes are not right. It's too late, can't return them now. I'm stuck in this shoes.

It takes forever to know someone you feel right with. It takes forever. Looking back in past relationships, when I was most excited was when I didn't have this people, rather I had the illusion of maybe sometime soon having this person. Because when I do love someone that loves me, I am bound to think less of them.

I have been acting like a brat for the most of my life. Reckless, ungrateful, entitled. My whole third grade year I kept losing my jackets at school. My mom stopped buying them for me so I'd learn to take care of them. I never searched for them. I would just lose them and leave-it-at-that. I still do the leave-it-at-that, why bother searching? Because, who wants to be this person that goes crazy mad and loses time for material things?

When I lose a person I do go mad. I think they know it. I communicate it. But, its not like a relationship can be searched for once it is lost. Screaming begging crazy doesn't help. You just have to say 'thank you, goodbye'. I wish to know if there is a way to find you and never lose you. and never feel like you must be worth a little if you think I am worth a lot.

I have way too many shoes and not one pair is perfect. I keep on going to the wrong stores. When I know how a right store looks like. I know what I like yet I don't go for it. and when it comes to people, it is like, I am doing it all wrong.

dias en veda

los días pasan , te(/me) digo que he cambiado, pero la verdad es que los días pasan y yo soy siempre igual. siempre ausente. nadie sabe que me acostumbre a no estar. no participar en sus juegos, en sus clases, en sus labores. los días pasan y yo aun en otro lado, siempre estoy acá.

me dijiste que era en mi donde debía proyectar toda mi fuerza, me dijiste que me transforme. te dije que yo ya era. los días y los estímulos y la fuerza pasan y me siento otra, mas fuerte, mas sabia, menos sonsa. pero eso no es real, la fuerza me atraviesa y soy/seré la misma siempre. mis hábitos cambian, mis pensamientos también, pero por dentro hay algo, que me obliga a no estar presente.

son muchas las veces en las que pienso antes de una vida - si es que algo debe cambiar - pienso que antes de buscarme una vida en la que este yo presente alimentándome/los, como hormiguita, antes, antes, primero pienso en ser institucionalizada, dejarme estar completamente no presente, cero, menos que cero, solo irme de una vez dentro de mi cabeza, aun si es una vulgar dirección.

me veía hormiga constructora, de mi propia empresa
y ese sera siempre mi disfraz,
todos tienen un blazer negro en su guardarropa, yo también.
Ni arrancándome el corazón te olvido,
de luz pasaste a ser otra herida
abierta.

yo no soy hormiga, aun si cada mañana me lo pido de rodillas
'muévete linda, ... '
y a pesar de los esfuerzos de mis maestros, tampoco soy grillo
mi canción no suena
y en silencio soy,
pendeja.

como chicle ando pegada al espacio de veda
gamucita negra y pelo sucio y destinturado
mancha en la pared soy
la ultima de la horda de 'las no deseadas'
me siento junto al publico
sin aplaudir,

y aun si le ruego a la noche y al big bang
no soy fuerza creadora
me limito al sueño
a mi cama
a construir castillos en el cielo
y el mas arrecho de todos, ese no me topa.


los días pasan
y ya me jode la herida que me hace tu imagen
lloro desde mi ventana
ni falta hace ser esterilizada
y, es que, nadie sabe que yo hago falta.

Dreaming. Done. When?

When dreaming is done, when dreaming is done
( ... ) dreaming. Done.
When dreaming is done I am still dreaming. There is always more.



Write whose name is composed of tender letters
lay it under the moon during a whole cycle
Kiss your hands and fingers, thinking of his letters
full moist lip. do it on a daily basis.
one letter, two letters, three letters, four letters, five,
six letters.
during that whole cycle.

Save his name in pink envelope
leave it under your pillow
lucid dreams of you making love to his letters
as they make love to you.
Dream for another full cycle.

Make up a chant and touch yourself
mimic the way you would touch him,
if he'd let you

I invest my love on the Power of Pink

Send me to my love and in return of his receiving

I pay in full form the letter 'I'. 

...

Nonesense! Nonesense! I make no sense!

When dreaming is done, when dreaming is done
( ... ) dreaming. Done.
When dreaming is done I still lay in my bed. Eyes open.
I cannot be sure of my eyes.
I cannot be sure of the 'I'.
And for hell I cannot trust this chants, this feelings, this dreams.
I cannot trust your love.
I cannot trust you denying me.
When will you take me?

When dreaming is done, when dreaming is done
( ... ) dreaming. Done.
When dreaming is - NOTHING IS DONE if it was dreaming.
if you sometimes mix up dreams and reality, then reality isn't done either!
When the deed is done, when the deed is done
When will you have me?

Fuck the moderns and they're modern love
Fuck individuality
Fuck passions
Fuck deciding between goals or other sort of goals
Fuck the type of feminism that dictates
>< I cannot    just think    of being    loved by you.><

I do. I do. I do!
I do. I do. I do!

I reject the I.

Help me erase my letters 

by making them something much sweeter. 

I reject the I.
I reject the eye.
I reject the dream.
Is this why you must reject me?

Thorns turns and fuck

Thorns!
Child's kiss gone
'Kuss, well it's gone
They walk me home through the city's black dust.
Thick petroleum is the water that feeds the flowers
Every step I take, there
luscious velvetine oath Covered In Thorns.

Oh how they prick the soles in me!
So I seat in the gravel next to my miserable friends
we eat our noodles
we get fatter hoping we'd get wiser
as we exchange shit for shit.

A wife beater set up cactis in my window,
hoping someday they'd give flowers
I don't water them
they're thorn-screwed bodies
survive,strive,survive
when you rise, fuck that, thorn ladder rising
Diagonal/lateral/language shit
Fuck my love.
Fuck it up and
get hurt. Fuck it up.

wreck less

wreck less beauty that sparks
I cannot spare you
my blood is my kiss
my skin longs for your yearning.

Which of my scars screams your name?  None.
It is in my eyes where I learned to love you.  It is in my brain,
it thinks it knows what is behind every of your gestures.
It is in my ears which you've enamoured taking them each time  to a new and better adventure!
My hands must hold you and create words/worlds that portray  you.

I am young and I bleed
irregular cycles
there is no way on telling time
unless the time is now.

Don't trust my word
Trust my writing.
wreck less (silent)  I'm fading.
Came with a gift and a purpose
but for me it is idle play
if I can't be your idol.

Scorn, wretched and reckless
when there is no beauty that sparks.
I want to be your mirror.

Her youth is no promise
Her fixed solitude is what's tantalizing.
She finds success in loving.

and when it stops,  it stops.
Blood keeps on dripping
and hair will keep on growing.

I'd rather do it for love.
I'd rather do it for love.
I'd rather do it for love.

My Pink Sweater

black black black black black blue the deepest blue dirty blue gloomy cloudy hazy blue black

My Pink Sweater

He travelled over 8978 miles to see me.
I didn't know what to do so I looked into his eyes
I reached for his hand we holded eachother for a while
but then he pushed me away.
Took my bed and my bread and
my pink sweater.

He came
delated. without care of appearances. Without care
he came and though hostile
he was ever gentle, gentle is his nature.
Silent reserved inmersed

It is summer but the sky was grey and he felt like going out with a sweater
he put it on and he looked so good. Inside my pink sweater.

(You were born to wear my pink sweater.
I was born so I could lend it to you.
My pink sweater simply exists
unconditional.)


Take off my pink sweater if you can't handle the heat.
Threw it to the ground you did and never gave another glance to it.
Though it followed you crawling getting tangled with your feet
My dirty pink sweater it follows you.
Through the streets in the bathroom while you shower every time you catch some other girls eye when a man talks to you as you meditate during the phone with your mother in the alley in a bar at the corner store getting some apples ginger bacon next to you when you read the newspaper when you take my hand and ask for picture of yourself with yourself always trying to get away from the pink sweater tired of the feeling a warm hue gives you at times you hang it around your shoulders take care of the cashmere fluff and dust off my beautiful pink sweater. It follows you.

I am dancing in the arms of another man
he buys me drinks I didn't want but I take them
and keep on dancing.
Black crop top got a cage bearing my back
if you would only see me.

his left hand holds my hand
his right hand parked in my navel
this is me dancing with another.
he keeps buying me drinks without noticing I no longer have a pink sweater.

my cat licks my arm, no rest
she licks
she licks
she licks
how many stings does her tongue hold?
she loves and it is a love that hurts
beautiful thing I want you near.

You tucked my pink sweater in your bag
You don't want it but you take it as a habit.
now it lays outside your doorstep
beautiful doormat
waiting
to fill the space, color your walls pink hot
comfortable present.

Hold you tight when you are inside me
Pink lips kissing sucking eating your Pink tip
you say that you don't want this.
hold you tighter in the winter just grab my pink sweater darling.

It will be laying on your doorstep
calling you
calling me

months of men holding my navel not caring if I'm without a pink sweater.
without it my glasses don't match so I'll be dancing blind. Why would you leave with my pink sweater and not drop word? You so silent.

I'll have to walk into your doorstep and ring your bell
so I can finally say
'Ok, so I guess I'm taking my pink sweater back'

Morir
si,
pero antes decir gracias.
Aun si corrompido este el cuerpo dejar fresco aroma.
Calido recuerdo , sonrisa
murmullo. Can-can.
Beña junto al puño
Ojo picaron
golpe = caricia.
Solo se hacer el amor
en orgasmo suave
me vengo
entrego
gesto
pujo
sana creacion
De la misma manera me voy.
Sin decir adios
Bienvenido sos
miamorrrrr.

mi mundo en ti.

i don't want to forgive you.
no quiero perdonarme.
nada, huelo
me quiero inclinar sobre ti mientras andamos en el metro.
no quiero nunca llegar
ningún destino
solo caminar, contigo.

yo no escribo poemas
escribo cartas de amor
mensajes de dolor.
me quiero quedar callada
que me vengas a buscar en este seco desierto.
irme, todavía mas lejos. y,
jalar-te
hacia acá, hacia acá.
cuerdas invisibles.
lineas directas
paralelas
distintas velocidades.

no recuerdo tu mirada
mucho menos por que reñimos.
Hay fantasmas que me llaman la atención
con deshonras.
El amor no es venganza.
Débiles los que buscan silenciar el dolor con gestos apresurados.
Yo quiero callar mi boca, para que de ese modo el mundo grite.
Quiero que tu seas ese mundo
habitar en tu hombro
mientras somos
nosotros, cuerpos en movimiento.

flor . muerte

1.*
Brotan hongos de mi cuerpo.
no quiero agua ni medicina.
Los pétalos se han caído.
Me apresure hacia el día de mi muerte,
me parecía una bonita dirección.
De un salto impulse mis raíces fuera de la maceta
y sin sarcófago ahí afuera
me quede.
Por tres años los alegres bailaron
junto a mi cuerpo.
Los necios me daban de beber.
Y tu,
y tu me llamabas.
Eras la luz que me tocaba.
Muerta yo soñaba
ciega ante tu luz.
Ciega, yo soñaba.

Asesina. Fuiste,
asesina.
Vamos quebrando esas macetas ,
una a una, al piso
que quiebra.
Míralas
deslizarse hacia su muerte.
Asesina déjalas ser polvo
y como polvo viajar al horizonte
directo a lo que no es un nuevo mundo. ¿Que es?
¡¿A donde vas?! Asesina,
¿A donde es que vas cuando tu cuerpo ya no pesa?

Yo mate la vida,
Acaricie una vida.
Me mordió esa vida.
Te bese, vida.
Me cagaste el corazón vida.
Cubriré mis ojos con khol negra e iré a tu entierro
vida.

Jamas pose
ni mi alma ni mis pies en un jardín
Jamas tuve maceta
Mis raíces no te encuentran vida
perdida me convertí en  asesina.

despavorida de la luz, me corro
inútil frío no logro quemarme
solo espero poder estrellarme.

Queen of nothing.

No one ever called you princess because you were born a queen. Queen of what? Queen of nothing. Nothing to domain, not even yourself. You are born in dignity, no matter what. No matter, whatever, let them loose. Achieve something that doesn't matter. Human nature, scratch the human, leave the nature. It is all words. No matter. We are made of matter, scratch the matter and there you are, with all the rest. I am God. You don't believe in me because you don't believe in yourself.

Princesses are governed by their mothers and fathers, they obey to that omnipresent creator. Had you not created me, I'd still exist. Had I be given no name, had you never called me, I'd still be. I am not in the I. I am not in your love. I am near. No one dares to have me. No one dares to take me. No one dares to love me. Don't you dare, i will never leave you, I was never with you. I am with all of them, them natural beings.

First, I lived on silly books.
Then I moved to Buenos Aires.
Then I went back home, Quito, and I ravelled.
I fucked and I spit. And I took drugs.
I love you them all, but then I left you. Just like so many have left me.
Now I live in Lima, and now I know South America sucks.
I'm not pissing my pants anymore.
Queen of no domains.
Queen without rule.
Between discipline and nature I choose nature.
I could go to Europe and see the one that sucks is me.
And I might just do that.
But I should just decide, to hide
in a tree.
Hide from my unsensitive socialité dreams.

I am a Queen and the only order I will give
will be to myself, when I finally say
'Off with my own head'

It is about what is underneath our organs. Every morning I wake up wishing I would just die, I hear the words come out of your mouth and I say ‘Craaaa aaa aaap!’. Then I’m out, buildings are falling because homes never rose. I just glance at shit, broken roads, bad weeds, beggars everywhere. I learned not to look. We all learned, we have to.

I wake up and I don’t see the point in dying. I am cold and there is nothing worth it. I enter rooms and it’s all chill. Been injesting ‘somas’ since, hell, I can’t remember when I started. But the doze now is higher. Tight dress, don’t care, cab fare, no complaints just get me to the venue, my friends don’t hug, they just say ‘Open your mouth’ and then, then it is all a fog. Thank god.

It is all darkness. I float through darkness and I see you. I see you, I see you. I feel you. What tunnel? Why walk into a light if the light is me?  
No shame in anything that is natural in me. See me bleed, see my tears.
We are magic.