I saw a man
He was dying
Dying to live
Constantly
I hope I never been around
But he was living so high
Since there was no one around
And he was avoiding everyone
In his crawling death
He just wanted to be heard
In his last breath
He's so dead
Hey could you give a bit of your time
My thoughts have been only about you
Hey you are such a strong hand
i haven't Been able to hold on
Don't put such a straight face
I'm no playing poker nor playing you
Just give me a bit of time
With you
You know I don't know how to play cards
Since the beginning i've been quite through
Straight hearts letters, no numbers,
How should I play this game?
You are so silent, could you remind me?
I'll play better, please explain
How I can be straight with you?
How Could you?
Keep grinding my teeth
As you left me
Somehow gotta sleep
Is the sugar I ate?
I'm left with this
I keep biting it,
But I can't swallow
I'm still chewing
Is a never ending bone
And even if I'm able to end it
There is a lot as if I'm eating a human foot.
I'm not saying you shouldn't left me alone
I gotta keep chewing and eating
I gotta eat
Myself.
The date was around 20 of february… maybe a month later… maybe a quarter less than the previous time.
I found it, once I arrived, it was calling me, resonating, ideas, thoughts, freedom, ideals, all made one, there have been a few times I’ve felt it.
I felt it when I knew that I had no talent on wind instruments, the same time I knew that football was not cut for me. Or being honest, my legs, no dexterity, my foots and body was not cut for sports.
The same time I noticed I was not able to let something take me somewhere in a different pace than the rhythm I walk when I set foot in a skateboard.
When I got excited with the first book and my hands started to hurt like roots starting to rapidly growth on two different sides of my body with romantic ideals.
That was it.
The things that make you believe that was set to be put on your life.
You came, resonated, and I thought I was able to adhere myself to the idea that you were meant to be part of it.
The same day I saw the rain fall down, downpour, the reverberation from a thunder, everything was good.
If I were a god, I would have said the same, “And it was good”.
Maybe the start, a mistake, was to love it too much. To desire the feeling too much, the idea of having something I felt it was done for me. I had an obsession.
I made the same mistake, putting too much strength to something I wanted to hold and I didn’t need to press on.
Oh, but I would have hold it close many times… even if I had to only embrace it, it felt good, better, tha something I could strive to.
But it ended, got the better of the worst of it, some sides I’ve never met of me.
Still, I appreciate it, it made know me better, or at least aspects I did not know, and, that now I need to fix.
She's there, she had the fire.
But when she's about to sleep
I'm not sure if she's there,
she turns so quiet.
When you close those eyes,
I'm there?
I'm holding fire, to find me,
but it melts down, consumed
take your time
But I can feel it, going down.
If I go to sleep before,
Would you be scared of the same?
would you hold the fire too?
Still,
Stay with me.
I don't want you to leave.
Awaken, like fire,
Burns,
Crackles smiles,
Crackle the woods
That ates.
At the ashes sleeping
In a slow slumber,
embers still,
Gentle heat bearer.
In a slow awaken,
A swamp, slow, steady.
Here at all times,
I wonder how you see me
I'm a tent, a camp?
I'm your home, I'm your lamp?
Doors.
Door-like windows,
Most of them shut, closed,
Am I approachable, yes, I see them come?
I have flowers as hair,
the grow everywhere,
They cut them pretty for me,
they pull them close to me.
I' was colorless, then faded,
I'm blushing now,
golden shoes, golden crown.
I'm (not) a plane,
I entertain,
I don't fly,
children play.
I wont go, I won't arrive,
so here, they find me all the time.
I wonder if they imagine me in the sky,
or if they just play on the slide,
still, they can ride me any time... should I say fly?
In the day, at night.
I'm a reminiscence of a plane
That gave this place its name.
Me erigieron aquí, allá,
y veo a muchos, a pocos, y dejo de verlos.
Los veo con prisa, los veo andar lentos,
Veo ebrios, veo cuerpos, veo muertos.
Veo felices, tristes, desterrados y arrastrados.
A mi me ponen cuerdas, pañuelos, palabras,
escriben sus nombres, los borran.
Me limpian, me pulen, me derrocan, me cambian,
me adoran, me maldicen.
Soy imagen, historia, recordada y olvidada.
Soy juzgado segun quien gane,
del lado de la historia.
Se burlan y se mofan,
me veneran y me respetan.
Pero no soy nada, soy la idea, la imagen,
del imaginario, de la masa.
Do we still hate each other after these days?
I still wonder if you were high that day. Then I whispered to myself.
- Why are we doing this?
Broken mugs,
broken glass,
broke your skin,
hurt mine.
And you kept medicines,
you never took one,
I did take some,
you never noticed it.
Some real scars,
that we left on us.
Broken bottle,
rotten food on bags,
still, I'd taken out,
all of that.
And we are still counting,
measuring, who was hurt the most?
just by looking,
at the other one.
"Me encanta que haya crecido ese árbol"
- Decía mientras miraba la ausencia de una pared blanca decolorada ahora opacada por el nuevo árbol.
En mi patio hay 5 gigantes, verdes de diferentes color. Deseados, amados, indeseados, heredados y tercos.
Parecen de diferente rara procedencia y ajenos de donde crecen. Parecía ahora reconocer estos gigantes como la naturaleza de mi estremidades.
No había caído en cuenta antes de ellos hasta que mencionaron uno.
Sí, tal como esa mañana de resaca donde noté mis extrimadades extrañamente grandes. Explore mi rostro ahora con hilos de cabellos, la piel, mi ecuerpo y el hieco de mi cabeza en la almohada.
Había madurado, era un adulto, pero no habia reparado mi cuerpo.
En ese instante me sentí un desconocido en mi cuerpo.
Me incluí en tí, joven,
cuando esto estaba poblado de nosotros.
Tú no eres de aquí, y por tí estoy en tí.
Cazadores iban y venían,
titularon esta tierra con el acto.
Entonces nos visitaban más.
Estamos ahora rodeado de piedras,
es una falsa sensación de accesibilidad.
¿Y para quién?
Nos visita mas el viento que nada.
En esta tierra de cazadores nadie caza.
y yo sigo acá pesándote,
hasta que nos cambien por otra piedra,
por otro acceso,
por una luz,
por un aviso,
por estorbar.
