Perdidamente

Quiero enamorme perdidamente.

Otro fallo.

La incontrobalidad de la experiencia fue lo que le llevó a beber un terciop de su vida musical. Se adormeció al verla en el regazo del amanecer. Sintió que quizá nunca más podría despertar de su sonrisa cuasi-eterna; que su vanal vido había sido enterrada en los recuerdos del mañana. Recordó el sol que amanecía desde su cabeza; el cual acomodaba dentro de su misma luz una esperanza palpitante que marchitaba de manera proporcionalmente directa con cada beso que marchitaba entre nuestros labios. Basta saber que lo que fuimos es lo suficientemente fuerte para mantenernos enamorados; para que la chica con la "jota" vea de la misma manera al chico de la "ge" como él la ve.

"Y te soñé, y te pensé.
En bibliotecas, en hoteles desvarié.
No conocí otra mujer
con esa diáfana mirada y esa piel."

Esta va para ese amor perdido. Para quienes pensamos que serían cataratas de alegría pero a final de cuentas resultaron ser, como siempre, otro bache en la autopista de mi ser. Para la sonrisa (y la risa) que me hace recordar que el recordar no es tan malo. Para aquél amor que se difuminó entre malentendidos. Esta va para la muñeca aquella que siempre amaré. Para las citas a media noche; para el no saber; para ti y para mí.

Dejémonos saber que mi angustia, mi deseo, no es tan exorbitante como alguna vez alguien lo pudo imaginar. Dejémonos fluir, Que tu dios te perdone pues yo no soy nadie para perdonar a nadie.

Al ruedo

I.
En ocasiones,
la razón de mis acciones
escapa mi entendimiento,
al final sólo quedan nuevas decisiones.

I.V.
Escribo y leo
y le escribo y le leo
y me escribo y me leo
y veo y veo y veo;
solamente veo.

II.
Le dijiste (me dije),
que el caer tan fácil es error fatal;
que el caer difícil es tarea vanal.
Le dijiste que ni de burlas
ni de veras
el aroma de tierra mojada
debería superar la malgastada
memoria de experiencias pasadas
de dolor que, aunque abnegadas,
le duelen, es cierto,
en el alma, en un rincón.

Mas ¿cómo iba/podrá él a/ saber
lo que iba/va a acontecer.
Si no aceptaron su corazón
como pago en la clase de tarot?

La clase de tauromaquia,
aquella del ruedo y del dolor,
aceptó su corazón como cuota inicial.
¿El resto?
a pagar con trozos de alma: cuota fija mensual.
Mas ni pidiendo alma prestada
le alcanzaba pa' un capote
ni tampoco pa' una espada;
mucho menos pa' un traje de actor.

Y así, al ruedo se echó:
desnudo, desalmado, descorazonado.
Y, nuevamente, el toro lo embistió.

Un vestido y una flor (te vi).

A Dress and A Flower (I Saw You)

I saw you,
you were collecting daisies from the table cloth.
I know I treated you badly enough.
I don't know if you were an angel or a ruby,
or if I simply saw you.

I saw you.
You came out from among the people to say hi.
The stars laughed again.
The key of Mandala broke,
or I simply saw you.

It goes without saying.
The lights are always on in the soul.
And when I get lost in the city,
you could understand,
that is just for a little while.
I would have to cry or to go out to kill.
I saw you, I saw you, I saw you,
I wasn't looking for anyone and I saw you.

I saw you.
You were smoking blunts in Madrid.
There are things that help you to live.
You didn't do anything but to write
and I simply saw you.

I left,
I go every once in a while to a place.
I know, you don't like this country.
You had a dress and a love
and I simply saw you.

Déjame tranquilo

"Never any lover is perfect. Nor has the adequate smile. Not always says the sweet word. Sometimes, doesn't even know how to make love. But the magic of the moment plays its blues very well. There are days when I crumble like the shadow of a ruined widow. I live the danger of bitting my gums, of remembering that I am just badly wounded. And you know? How I desire a cigarette that burns in ten years, to drink my life in little sips as if it was a cuba. And I come back to you who has seen me with the the rheuma of those nights. Don't pay to know how your puberty went away with those bluses, at the end you are always going to hate them. Don't follow me, don't tempt me, don't ask me to undress you. No."

One?

Flavored kisses becoming an illusion.
Open your eyes lady a month has gone by.
Let your lips float and become the conclusion
dreaming of the omnipresent fight, we cry.

You fly. He stands on your heart feeling ill.
The conversation with his soul's about you.
We turn the page of our time and we are still
remembering, trying to forget the blue.

We stand tall and strong, reliving the night
when the miracle happened; when he met you.
We count time like no one, I think of the "might".
You revolve, volutes, our love in debut.

The ball rolls. The rocks don't. Here comes the sunset
of what happened before and cannot be no more.
Here comes the sunrise. Exhale with no regret.
Three words would suffice. Just three, not anymore.

Uno?

Flavored kisses becoming an illusion.
Open your eyes lady, a month has gone by.
Let your lips float and become the conclusion.
Dreaming of the omnipresent fight, we cry.

You fly. He dwells in your sweet heart feeling ill.
The conversation with his soul's about you.
We turn the page of our time and we are still
remembering, trying to forget the blue.

We stand tall and strong, reliving the night
when the miracle happened; when he met you.
We count time like no one, we think of the "might".
You revolve, volutes, our care in debut.

The ball rolls. The rocks don't. Here comes the sunset
of what happened before and can't be no more.
Here comes the sunrise. Exhale with no regret.
Three words would suffice. Just three, not anymore.

I write

"You know you're gold, you don't gotta worry none"

Two insomniac nights fueled by a trip. I speak on the phone; sin saber de que hablar más que de trivialidades. I listen to music; sin saber en que más pensar sino en la que está lejos. Zebra. Beach House. Repeat. Zebra. Beach House. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.

And I see the morning sun hoping that my words will be enough to keep me going, to give my spirit the on-going calm I want. Then, I shut my blinds and the sun gets muffled, asilenciado, como la leyenda esa que me contaron de niño y que al dormir desaparecía. Por supuesto que daba miedo; por supuesto. How to forget it? Forgetting it was out of the question. Sin embargo, al día siguiente, me desperté agradecido y contento de saber lo que había escuchado. No había nada por lo que temblar. They were words and they were my thoughts.

I did not go to the gym today. I did not. I just called hoping the phone would get picked up in a far away place. I called hoping to hear a familiar voice. My two wishes came true. We talked and my soul now feels calmer. Siento que Morfeo me habla y me dejaré llevar por él hacía la tierra de los sueños en la que, quizá, le vea. A true dream.

24

The first 24 took almost a week to be accomplished.

The first 24 came in a bubble package coated with cane sugar and soft words and delivered over 4 non-consecutive days.

Viejos recuerdos de lo que siempre habías querido que hubiera sido. El bienestar que se siente al encontrar algo nuevo con el malestar de la misma incertidumbre de siempre. Te das vuelta y le ves, se ven, les ven. Se da vuelta y le ves, te ves, les ven.

You write words but read intentions.
You smile but see conception.
You laugh but remember deceptions.
You say I'll do it but anticipate narration.

You are happy.

Happiness

Some one told me that happiness is something you choose.

I chose to walk today under the sun.
I chose to ask questions and get answers.
I chose to give up at the right time.
I chose to bend my hands when needed to.
I chose to listen to sad music that makes me happy.
I chose choosing the right arms.
I chose letting it go.
I chose to say something.
I chose to chose.

At the end, I am surprised. The validity of this argument needs yet to be proven but I can say for sure that today I felt and feel better than in these past couple of weeks.

Encontrandote

"I'm sick and tired of the way that i feel,
I'm always dreaming and it's never for real.
I'm all alone with my deep thoughts.
I'm all alone with my heartache and my good intentions.

I work to eat and drink and sleep just to live,
feels like I'm never getting back what I give.
I've got a sad song in my sweet heart.
and all I really ever need is some love and attention"

El sentimiento de estar perdido es abasallador y desgarrador.

Caminas por las calles solas sólo con tu soledad. Respiras el aire helado de la incertidumbre. Buscas señales que te indiquen el rumbo. Aces el suelo a tus pies con la certidumbre de que solamente eso es lo que te pertenece en ese instante; das un paso más y repites lo anterior. De vez en vez encuentras cosas conocidas, el nombre de una calle, una palabra familiar, una sonrisa de años y piensas por 3 segundos que sabes donde estás que sabes a donde hay que ir. Reexaminas las pistas y te vuelves a encontrar en donde estabas anteriormente, en la confusa soledad. Te das cuenta, en ese entonces, que una calle, una palabra o una sonrisa no bastan. Ni siquiera todas ellas en combinación pueden mostrarte el camino. Llegas a la conclusión de que sólo te tienes a ti para encontrar tu destino.

Te vi

Te vi congelada en un beso somnoliento, discirniendo si era yo a quien deberías de amar (si no para siempre, sí por éste momento). Ahora, con la voz que lo sabe y lo ve todo te digo: "sí, soy yo a quien debes de amar" (si no para siempre, sí por éste momento)".

Me das un beso loco y luego un beso desconocido. No lo entiendo; me enloquece.

Baby

Baby, I can see you through our window, (Baby, I can see you through my window)
while you pour a glass of vino (while you feel the disappointment)
and light up a cigarette (and swallow up, whole, your pride).

Baby, could you tell me what's hurting? (Baby, would you tell why you are coming)
Why you drink in this mourning morning? (Why you tombstone is not important?)
Was it me or was it him? (Was it you? Was it the rain?)

A sardonic vision of your future, (A promising vision of your next one)
made me love you even more. (made me hate you even more more)
You didn't know you were fucked up (I didn't know I was fucked up)
But I knew it all along. (But we knew it all)

Now you see the butterflies (Can you see now? Your heart flies.)
and finally believe in them. (He, finally, believes in it.)

Would you believe in human kind?
It'll put an end to your tears.

Penélope

I wake up at dawn, dreaming I don't know what.
I have breakfast with rain and I remember you over coffee.
I dreamt your figure far away,
waiting in the suburbs of oblivion
and I saw me setting sail on golden ships
that I had filled with presents for you
and then I saw that because of jealousy the sea of my torments,
swallowed the ship and that crazy one who was me.
And everything shipwrecked.

How far you are, how far I am.
The debris of my life slide with the rain
forgetting Penelope.

I abandon my self to the waves, they spit me out of the sea.
Years have gone by, no one knows where you are.
The deserted streets at night
and your face is drawn in my memory.
The trees hug themselves
like skeleton woods in the rain
my dream shipwrecked.

How far you are, how far I am.
It rains mint tears and I get drunk with sorrow
forgetting Penelope.
How far you are, how far I am.
The debris of my life slide with the rain.
forgetting Penelope.
I refuge in taverns and become taciturn
Forgetting Penelope.
How far you are, how far I am
what is left of my life I spend it in the hovels
remembering Penelope.

Me despierto en el alba soñando no sé qué
desayuno con lluvia y te recuerdo en el café.

Soñé tu figura lejos, esperando en los suburbios del olvido (Penélope)
y me vi solo, zarpando en barcos de oro que llené con regalos para tí
y luego vi que por celos el mar de mis tormentos. Se tragaba el barco,
el tesoro y aquel loco que era yo y todo naufragó.

Que lejos tú, que lejos yo,
los escombros de mi vida se deslizan con la lluvia
recordando a Penélope.

Me abandono a las olas, me escupen del mar.
han pasado los años, nadie sabe en dónde estas.
Las calles desiertas por las noches
y tu cara se dibuja en mi memoria
los árboles, se abrazan, como bosques de esqueletos
en la lluvia, y mi sueño naufragó.

Qué lejos tú, qué lejos yo.
Llueven lagrimas de menta y me emborracho de amargura
olvidando a Penelópe.
Qué lejos tú, qué lejos yo.
Los escombros de mi vida se deslizan por la lluvia
olvidando a Penelópe.
Me refugio en las tabernas y me vuelvo taciturno
olvidando a Penelópe.
Qué lejos tú, qué lejos yo
lo que queda de mi vida lo malgasto en los tugurios
recordando a Penelópe.

Cold Cry (from the draft box II)

"I think and think and think, I‘ve thought myself out of happiness one million times, but never once into it."
— Jonathan Safran Foer

The blizzard freezes your scarf, bonnet and heart.
Your thighs burn, your mind is numbed; it'll last.

Thinking means setting your neck and back on fire,
thinking aggravates that feeling in your gut, dire.

You put your glasses on hoping you'll see better.
Short-lived tears die in the corner of your mouth.

Tap your foot impatiently, words are dead in your throat.
Get the courage to write what you feel; tell her.

Tell her that your silence is out of fear, not disrespect.
Mention to her that it's cold outside; that it's cold inside.

You cry and swallow your pain. You say that it'll be okay.
You know that it'll be. But it still hurts, it still does.

You cry and you drain. You know that you love her.
You cry and you drain. You cry and swallow your pain.

Weekend

You pull the string and the light goes off. She says good night. You lie there with her; memories, kisses and laughs. She enters your room (you had been waiting for it while reading a book of old stained pages) and lays on top of you as you put the words aside. You get under the blankets and grab a book. You say good night and embrace the last hug of the night; or at least that's what you think. You, you and her, come back home late at night after displaying a secret many people knew about. You wash the dishes and clean your kitchen while she sleeps on your sofa under your blanket. You pick up the bowl she filled with cereal and milk fifteen minutes ago. You wake up and she is not there; cleaning time.

She tells you that you should go to sleep to your room. You ask her if you could sleep with her tonight, after having fallen asleep while she was resting in your lap watching one of your favorite shows. You put the sofa bed away around four in the afternoon because you think it has been enough watching TV and enjoying her sleep in your arms for that day. You explain to her that your sofa pulls out to a bed and you both decide to lay there and watch movies in a Saturday morning. You wake up in her mattress that rests on top of her box spring; you were cold that night but your soul was sold in peace.

The night ends as it should have ended. You both come back from a concert that started way too late. Walking home is not as terrible when you have her besides you, grabbing your arm. You ask her to go home. You and her are upstairs kissing and hugging in the midst of dancers, the music plays loudly. Downstairs, you kiss her. You tell her that you like her. She tells you that she likes you. The two of you order a couple of drinks from the bar. You and her come into the bar and pay the eight dollars they were charging. She brings you a beer; you pour her a drink. You fill the flask in preparation for the night. You both drink after taking showers. You look at her and cannot stop admiring her beauty. You talk to her and you like her.

"Days like this"

In days this like this I feel powerful and vulnerable. I feel like going back to create a future. I feel that the tomorrow will bring the same disappointments of the yesterday; that broken hearts will, inevitably, be. That the fact that I am getting my bangs grow is a fruitless endeavor because I will cut them anyways. All the words I've said, I feel, have been in vane. The one that I used to be is not anymore and the one I wanted to be may not ever happen. I feel convoluted, I encounter myself digging through my past, thinking if the decisions I made were the right ones. Most of the times I believe they were, some other I simply do not know.