Out of time

I want to do things. Then I don't.
Sometimes I wonder who the owner of my life is
where am I going
why am I still here if I am "not here"
I am starting to suspect
I might not like this anymore
but then again, what do I like?
What do I want?
Where would I be better?
What is my true call?

I'm running out of time already
one less sunset for me tonight
out of the countdown to the end of my life
no one ever warned me it would run out this fast
time won't wait, yet here I am
waiting on time, looking for something
that might never be,
a signal to point which way I should go.

Day in and day out, it's just
an empty road to nowhere
There is no one else to blame but me.
Sometimes I forget my essence and I can't seem to find
Myself amidst the background noise
And this blurry hologram called life.

A mind is a beautiful thing to make up.
Then, why can't I make up my own mind?
Alas, life slips away second after second
And we can never get our time back.

Karma

We live on memories
And on the moonshine against the black sky
I used to be a dreamer
But then there were no days and no nights and I didn't have any more dreams.

The world is void
Voices are echoes fading far away
Where no dream could no longer visit
And your arms were gone for forever and left me behind with all these hugs not given,
Unforgiven
And alone

Successful love story

I'm lost in the warm white skin, in the pale blue heaven beneath the sheets, in this place and time and the storybook that I am keeping.

The same old words still, my murmur hot in your ear, your hands on the same spot in my chest, yet it all feels so new, white hairs give way to the old smiles, the ancient looks in our faces now, now that our feet feel heavier and heavier every morning, now that this love is the only drop of youth left for you and me.

I look at all the memories, back to the time when we were other people. Little nobodies who were content with little things, so that big things like love, seemed more meaningful. Now big things seem little, and little things are insignificant. We're almost not there anymore. Holding stern looks into the nothingness. How did we become this?

Then I hold your hand. You're still sleeping by my side and I feel safe again.
Maybe some other night we'll sleep together. We're in the big bed, with the soft, sleek covers. Two shiny cars are parked outside. And most importantly, we've defeated weirdness, gossip, death and shit.
If this is not the definition of success, then what is it?
I thought I heard you say you love me.

Pan

Tu pan vida. Mi pan vida
Hecho migajas, bajo mis pies en la cocina,
Del día de hoy, no perdurable
En el agujero negro que es la existencia,
Cubierto de queso, lo único que te gusta
Y el roce de mis nalgas con mi antebrazo cuando camino
Esas seis libras se convirtieron en adornos
¿Quién creería que estorbarían tanto al caminar?
Pero a ti te gustan
Aunque pesen y estorben
Te gustan quizá porque gustan a los otros
Y en verdad, no pesan tanto
No tanto como lo demás
Cargando con tus vidas pasadas
Y las presentes llenas de "algias" y "osis" o de vacío
Hasta escuchar mi propio eco
En donde todo es azul
Y somos migajas imposibles.

Si no te la comes hoy, para mañana la vida ya no estará buena. Somos polvo antes del viento. Hoy aquí estamos.

22-03-19

Cuando intentas dar tu mejor cara, aunque ya se agotó tu colección de sonrisas.

Y una vez más toca abrazarse y salvarse uno mismo,

de la cada vez más desgastante experiencia de permanecer.

Seige

I'm in the crossfire
In evenings going out, with uncertain return
In familiar places turned dark and dangerous
Made theirs
Made forbidden by them
Sitting helpless amidst a war not my own.

Happy memories have gone sad in the city
Sunsets will never be the same
Flushed in blood and lead
And eaten by the never ending nightmare
With Death waiting behind every corner
Smiling,
Busy impersonating happiness
To those who can't tell right from wrong,
Those foolish enough to fool themselves.

I don't care about your sad little life.
Don't make me witness your misery.
Don't be so proud of yourself.
We know you don't deserve the air you breath.
Silence is precious now.
Quiet your guns and shut your mouth.

Adolescence

I listen when she speaks. She's the good mood of spring evenings.

Her heart full of mysteries her words can't explain. Like her vision of the universe.

Her cynical sour little smile
from her shiny plump little lips
Edging that tiny pretty mouth
full of fries and curse words.