touched what looked like a star (in the sea)

If you ever find yourself lying lifeless on the floor, stuck into stupidity, breathing polluted air.

The difference between 'me' and 'myself' is the reflection of what seemed to be the shrieking sinew of a wrecked muscle.

If you ever find yourself here. If you believe in crows as shadows walking by this grave, drooling with sharp teeth. Too much for a heavy wave, too small insignificant for a grieve. Tired body, wet glassy eyes. Move your hands, I'll shake you twice. As twisted as a fish cooling in the sunlight. The more you touch, it'll turn to stone. With eyelids like drapes, you'll kiss me goodbye.

I deserve to be here, you deserve to be mine.

But your forhead feels so cold, I live in your nightmares everyday. At the summit of your daydreams. Overlooking your wasted wings. Feel alive, again. Feel. Again.

Still, the difference between 'you' and 'yourseflf' is the unsolved matter with your torso and your legs. A tangled connection with a soul not yet named. The constant lash on your back. The indeciphable words coming out of my mouth.

A hummingbird knows best than my sratched shattered heart. Infinity to reach, pleasure to di(v)e in, exctasy of void. And silence. And stillness. And a withered garden (how i used to love this garden, you looked so alive in it).

Things to be said, days to be spent, people to be gone, justice to be done.

Something you have to mend. You have to be prepared. You have to lift from the wood, loose your clothes to run out. Moon, sun, now who cares? (It's still your fault. And they all know it). Jump the fence, jump me, run out, climb the wall.

Otherwise, you'll be nothing. Just a black period of time. A stain of dust in the sand, a lonely curve with no sign. But somewhere, there has to be a switch, yet hard to reach. A place where all these thoughts can rest in peace. A place where all your feelings have a name.

If you ever find yourself here, if you ever get in trouble... because of me.

I'll love all your ways, still in a twised way of care. Of love.

I'll be like a rubber knife (innocent but lethal).

For you. Everyday.

If you ever find my self here.

-

Do I look allright?

Mundo.

Mucha.

Gente.

Que.

No.

Te.

Dice.

La.

Mucha.

Gente.

Que.

En.

El.

Mundo.

No.

Te.

Dice.

(Nada.)

Cóctel

Sus bocas sueltan anillos de chocolate

Hasta empalagarse de su mismo festín berreta

Y aplauden los guantes, se relamen las perlas

Se relamen las orillas de sus playas serviciales.

Y en un fondo muy acústico

Suenan gritos de euforia

Fue él, fue él, fue él.

Inferioridad que sirve para lo mismo:

Delantal al suelo, la bandeja de plata

Zapatos ordinarios, a nada le das bola.

Sus dedos sueltan gotas de colonia y caramelo

Hasta intoxicarse de presiones ignorantes

Y afilan los guantes, se flexionan las piernas

Se flexionan mandíbulas en expresiones de cóctel.

Y tras el biombo de la angustia

Cuelgan trapos sin lavar

Fue él, fue él a ella.

Discriminación que iguala la balanza:

Jabón al suelo, el balde de plata

Perfume con el viento, se evapora la inmoral

Y desapareció.

Y acá no pasó nada.