You

Are these all the tears I have for you?

I wonder...

I'm not even sure why I am crying about,

for it being over

or the existence of it.

I'm all emotional these days,

and I have learn to see that as defect of my personality,

but I still can see that it also bring some clarity to things.

Even when us was always about confusion,

about extremes and nothing at the same time,

like mold in a pair of shoes in the closet.

And you are so far,

and I'm so over it,

and I'm so not over it,

and this is not new at all,

you have always been out of reach.

I open my hand in the middle of the cold air,

the room is very still,

and what makes me cry

is not knowing,

if a feel anymore.

Like in a labyrinth,

like my body floating in the middle of a mercury pond,

and the midst, making it impossible to say

if is about to be dark

or the morning.

and I just stay, almost draining,

almost alive,

almost.

Es un perro que se tira por la ventana

I looked for it in the usual places,
were it goes for rest,
were it goes for fun,
even were it tends to hide.

Nothing.

It took me a while to find out
that I had lost it.

At the same time
it's bigger than ever,
now that it knew unconditionally.

I'm still not sure if I lose it or missed it.
Maybe it was too heavy.
too damaged.
too sore.

The worst part is wanting to get it back,
and at the same time doubt it,
because it hurts just to think of putting it back were it belongs.

So I'll stay, very quiet, and wait, and hope,
very hard,
that nothing changes.

Tercera fase o fase enfurecida (poesía)

Quisiera escucharte sólo por un día
cantarme el danzón de mi muerte,
que bailaras para mí,
el gusto de no tenerme,
que te fueras para siemrpe,
aunque sea a sembrar deseo,
que trajeras la leche de la esquina,
o la tuya fresca y espesa;
que no me pusieras rejas alrededor del pensamiento.
Que no me tomaras de la mano
porque he abierto la boca.
Que sobre mi lengua colocaras
peces de colores.
Que te vinieras por la ventana,
regando tu desendencia en los tanque de gas,
polemizando todo,
polinizando todo.
Que te enteraras que estoy aquí,
que me presento,
martes y viernes,
siempre a las ocho,
en tu sala y doy función,
estés o no viendo
la pantalla de plasma.
Que te ofrezco mi sexo
de desayuno económico,
que te doy todo en busca de respuesta.
Quisiera que te enteraras de que te sirvo mi vida en un plato,
a la putanessca con anchoas,
y ni así comes.
Que mi paciencia no es infinita,
y está muy lejos de la benevolencia.
Como las moscas en geografía,
como Sartre en su pequeño sillón,
como los surrealistas en patines...

Compré un pollo y lo herví
a tu salud mi amor,
con el libro de Rilke en la mano,
y en la otra las nalgas de mis quesadillas [...]

torrente pasillo,
abandóname sueño



Pelea de perro es mi corazón a tu lado

Tercera fase o fase enfurecida (poesía)

I put on your sweater Daddy
and my tough flows into your room.
Your heavy smell invades my dinner.
I don't eat anymore.
You live trough glass.
Don't get to feel anything real.
Music is going down the street
and you can't catch your bus.
I'm leaving the leaving room
to pass trough seasons
in search of your love in past noons.
But I don't want to find it now.
You push too much.
Have never listen.
Don't appreciate.
Is too late now.
Sometimes can't even been added.
You went to school, but no one were there.

Tercera fase o fase enfurecida (poesía)

I don't have you
or anything else.
I'm incapable of
having anyone.
I don't know any other way to say hi
than sex.
I rather to fuck with you
cause sometimes I have sex to feel,
but most of the time I have sex to not to feel.
Are you coming?
Are you eating my flesh?
Is it any good?
Are you finished?
When is your mother coming?
Have you cometh today?
Would you like to give me your semen now?
Or is it just a hobbie?

Tercera fase o fase enfurecida (poesía)

Feed me with pieces of your blood.

Kiss me, at least in the holidays,
give me what I would never find without you.

I want to drink your salive
till I fill myself up.

Hug me at noon.

Tercera fase o fase enfurecida (poesía)

Ahora si que estoy enfurecida contigo porque siento que me abandonas, que eres así,
que me llevas contigo a estos malditos estado alucinantes,
y eso que yo no te hago eso porque siempre te veo vulnerable,
te acompaño, me quedo contigo junto a tí,
para que te sientas seguro y no tengas que temer,....

Zapato antigüo nombrado mil veces,
es tu nombre el que no existe,
saliste de la noche y comiste habas,
no has traído nada de allá,
tu puerta cerrada sabe a azul
chocolate,
a veces no se si quiero entrar.
Come hasta hartarte,
corre por el pasillo
al encuentro de las letras que no te pertenecen,
coge lo que no es tuyo
y escóndelo en la barriga,
cubre todo de barba, de pelos,
de hambre de sueño
y teje tu telaraña.

Tercera fase o fase enfurecida (poesía)

What is that, that you did to my heart?
How can you fill something with so much emptiness.

How I came to the point where your presence would't help at all.

I don't want you back.

I could't stand your sights
not even over my shoulders.

I don't rather your kiss at all.

Notas sobre la tercera fase

O fase enfurecida, en esta hay algunas imágenes que me gustan y es la última, así que algo tiene evolucionado con respecto a las otras, pero en general los textos de ésta están incompletos.