Minimal

Your Wings.
My Sorrow.
Not Today.
But Tomorrow.

And I shall die,

into nothingness blinking,
yearning a lifesaving hug.
Thought the drowning man sinking,
Wishing the sea had a plug.


(meaterralaobviedad)

Oniricáustico

Después de un instante me respondió en su escueto español: "la fortuna es como las opiniones, las hay positivas así como negativas, pero siempre es subjetiva."
Como no creerle si vivía en el corazón de la isla.

Pick up lines for the season:

A. I was born bullet size.
B. Sometimes I wake up as an antibody.
C. Call me cul-de-sac.

Errático

Vampiro de atención con destino en vías de aborto, sin carnet que me identifique como ciudadano pirata me adentro en tu mirada con clandestina amargura. Y no me pidas que te pida perdón. Si hubiera sido más fácil no nos habríamos amado. Las cenizas de un heróico cerillo que ni la noche ni el viento vienen a recoger.

El único trazo perfecto en ese garabato llamado casa.
La duda pudorosa que se resbala entre el algodón violeta y la carne tan tierna.

Profeta de mi propia terapia no te pido perdón porque ni a mí me lo pido a pesar de todo el daño que nos he hecho.

Yo(h)unger

I was always there.
I was the first choice to confide in.
I was the one in charge of bringing them together every night.
I was the funny one.
I was the one who made him funny.
I was of the bunch that really listened.
I was the one who got them out of the house.
I was the link with the outside world.
I was in charge of the riots.
I was bringing new songs each week.
I was the best friend of each one of them.
I was pampered by the older ones.
I was the first to suggest another round.
I was part of the gang... and for me that was enough.

Right now

I could feel optimistic because there's enough time to make things right.
I could feel important because you're reading what I've got to say.
I could feel tormented because there are lies I never wish to confirm again.
I could feel free because I have the chance to believe in my own wishful thoughts.
I could feel bored because my life, like everyone else's, is nothing more than time spent in by a grain of sand.
I could feel curious because there are so many things I still don't know about myself.
I could feel mournful for all the goodbyes I have had to say.
I could feel alive because... I am.
I could feel that I'm dying because... I am.

I have every reason to feel in any way I want.

But that's not how I feel right now.

So feelings don't appear out of nowhere. They are the same as kids at school, each one of them firmly seated in it's desk raising their hand, waiting for their chance to speak out loud.
So it's not 'hey man, how are you feeling?' is 'hey man, right now what is your feeling of choice?'.

Leave it.

With my head tilted, I waited for his reply while reading the spine of all sorts of books. I took the one with the most interesting title and then just glanced through its pages without reading one single word.
"I don't believe in computers." He answered.
"Really?" My voice made this farcical high pitched sound. I felt embarrassed immediately.
"Why is that hard to believe?"
"Well, nowadays there are tons of things you cannot do without a computer." I bet Gates or Jobs weren't born knowing that they would get an entire generations of slaves for free.
"Like what?"
"Like... internet!"
"I have books."
"Yeah but sometimes books are not enough. Or sometimes you don't have the book you want the moment you need it. With internet you can type in your wildest dream and it'll come up with thousands of sites about it."
"And what is the wildest thing you've looked for?"
It took him nothing to come up with such answer.
So then it became obvious that what was natural for him wasn't as simple for the rest of us.
In the following minutes I realized that all the fake opportunities I believed in were meaningless.
Who's to blame? The illusion that millions of possibilities to change your life were never there or just me?

En serio no me tomes.

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|||| No tienes que entender qué es para saber que estas haciendo algo malo.
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Siesta con el enemigo

Ni te das cuenta lo cerca que vives de tus propias impotencias. Ni sabes los retos que esquivaste por escasos milímetros. Ni agradeces lo que por suerte perdiste en el camino. Ni buscas nuevas respuestas para tus problemas de siempre.


La historia de terror que se desencadena en tu mente insegura cuando te limpias el culo con la mano izquierda y te das cuenta que lo simple no es tan sencillo y que lo de siempre nunca es eterno.

Los hijos de Bin Laden

Con anchas playeras de algodón, jeans y tennis adidas; bailaban todos una danza ignorante. Una danza que no conoce miseria, no conoce pérdida ni sacrificio. Una danza ridícula que basa su cadencia en el miedo y el odio.

A Omar le bastó salir a Time Square el día de la muerte de su padre para darse cuenta que en el vasto terreno americano y en todas sus colonias aún no había nacido un yanqui que tuviera los güevos del tamaño de su padre.