Libre para ser humano

Y un peculiar maestro, me dijo que me limito, porque deseo, pero no deseo lo suficiente.  ¿Por qué no lo deseas todo?, apuntó. 

Estas limitado si solo deseas ciertas cosas, ciertas personas, aquí yo pensé en algunas pieles, en algunas esperanzas, en algunas ideas. Cuando descubras que soy todo y soy nada, podrás conectar el deseo, mis deseos, a la vida, finalizó.

Y hoy entiendo esta sencilla libertad prometida: soy importante para mí mismo, y soy insignificante para otros y otras. 

Buen venturoso año 24 de este siglo.

Arca

Un viernes más que se cierra, te extraño mamá, bella María Ofelia.

tras una suave ducha nocturna, sigo creyendo en este intento vital que te conté: 

coincidir la justicia con la imaginación.

coincidir, 

la justicia junto a la imaginación

como el designio dado a la paloma enviada a tierra fuera del arca al acabar la peor tormenta.

What is my own weakness?

Trust, and cry when they touch that vulnerable area of pain, for the duels that are scars of eternal losses. I miss my dead, many, and even today I told a friend, that the best I can do is to listen to the pre-summer birds and connect with December.

The yellow flowers that fall in December, carpet your steps as you walk through the city, those flowers are so connected to memories, and even have an old song from Floricienta, that I sang as a young while editing on a TV show.

today I am still sick, and sometimes I think that I may get worse soon, or maybe I will heal too. the pain of the soul and the heart and the mind, should not fall into suffering, because pain is reality, the other is to worsen the situation and it is optional to suffer, to leave because of stubbornness or not wanting to accept. Anyway, I think I've learned.

And the birds keep on chirping, and I remain as a faithful legacy of the memory of my beautiful not present.

whispers softly

There is, and I was part, of a gamification but of the desire and attraction that is developed and amplified by these dating apps. Straight or bi women connect with a cruel and shitty side, they do what they do and say what they say, because of the offer, and many men say yes to them or give them likes. All for all in a party of tomorrow.
It is not advisable to be part of these apps in a process where you do not find yourself strong enough to withstand rejection. it is important to understand that you enter to train and be part of this game, and acquire strength from the rudeness, charisma from the blow, and philosophy of the knife. 

Ability babe

How do I free myself from these chains and yokes of unrequited love? Of not letting go of women who did not love me. The yoke of non-love heat. Instead, I do things to develop and reach my potential, my fullness. There is this parable in the gospels of the talents, the 3 servants, and the coins. So yes, my desire is to multiply the coins that have been granted to me, to abound on my end.

Going

The clear path leaves me very lost, it would be best to sleep in my arms, or you dream of sleeping next to mine, warm, in love to the core.

A ticket for this ride

I realize that one romanticizes one's own suffering. Romanticizes the loneliness experienced. Creating a state of evasion and conformity. That becomes an addiction to the pit of sadness and the past that is recreated in vain memories. Emotional life thus becomes a comfort zone or a refuge from which one does not want to escape. Choosing to suffer or choosing loneliness instead of changing things to live the life one would like to live.

real slow

Mon mémoire oublie beaucoup d'idées et de phrases, c'est une fragilité de la mémoire parce qu'elle veut me protéger de ne pas enregistrer le présent. C'est pourquoi j'oublie si fortement depuis 2022. Et je t'oublierai, j'oublierai le beau bleu, je ne me souviendrai pas de septembre et je ne me souviendrai pas de cette chambre du mercredi. J'oublierai enfin moi et j'oublierai que j'ai aimé chanter et tomber aux pieds de ta gracieuse danseuse.

beau quarante-deux!

la bataille des papillons

Why did I get so desperate to please you and see you again? 

I know that pushed you to not even consider smiling at me, or wrapping your pearly arms around my waist. 

I fell out of control on my way, but it was a choice to fight and strive for the sake of your love. 

I got a little too scared because, in honesty, I tell you that your love is neither an impossible storm of objections, nor the din of an avoidant attachment, or the injury of your traumatic romantic history. 

In plain, you did not love me, nor will you love me

A de amor, B de besos, C de cariño, Q de qulo. 

A veces sí, a veces no, a besos siempre.

Still

La magie consiste à observer sans condamner, à écouter, à ne plus fuir la vie que nous sommes. La magie et le sacré, c'est d'être.

rainforest

She wants a tree house,
She wants a garden. 

Pale moon, me and you, believe me tonight: you don't even mind the rain.

Una canción para el viejo

Quijote, entraste solo un par de meses a mi vida de caos y melancolía, y aunque estabas golpeado y abandonado por la vida y el resto de humanos, te sumaste a esta aventura mutua. No creo que haya hecho mucho, hice poco lo siento, pero igual tu sonrisa y paz esos últimos minutos de este miércoles 15 de sol donde partiste porque no quería que sufrieras más, me deja con un recuerdo perdurable. 

Te pido perdón por mis limitaciones, por no ser suficiente o no tener el corazón sano para darte lo que necesitabas para vivir más, y con muchos cuidados. Espero hayas sentido el calor y el cuidado de estas 9 semanas como un fiel reflejo de que también se puede estar en paz y cuidado en esta vida. Y que te merecías mucho más, más que yo y mis manos.

Te recuerdo así, en mis piernas, sonriendo al sol, crema sobre la verde naturaleza que tanto apreciabas. hijo al sol, doy fe que tenías un gran corazón y nunca hacías daño a pesar de tener mucho miedo a cuestas, tu corazón bello te precederá y te protegerá en tu nuevo momento de trascendencia.

Te quiero Quijote. Te recuerdo recordaré hasta mi propio final, bello viejito.

parfum

there is little to tell about the now. in a small balance between anger, sadness, and rejection, I think understanding melancholy only pushes to silence and the rules of connection. these are few, to attract a woman requires genetics or money, or both, and some kind of statistical probability.
youth also helps to give protection and security.
yesterday may have been better, tomorrow may be better.
it's the night of the most fun holiday I like to reminisce about, Samhain.
from the dusk of the millennial nights to the liminal celebration. not to be in one place or another. And again I pronounce that name so old, so old... because, in the end, someone else did not appear after that trip of adolescence where the millennium was ending.
2023, Samhain night, again. will I be back in the next solar cycle?

wait

you have been here for some time, in my thoughs, I just wonder if you will be a mother, will you listen to the heartbeat coming out of your womb.

it's just an idea thrown into the fabric of all goddesses. unintentionally, just thinking about the clouds of your feet, the white lines of your hips, the honesty of your smile, and how everything would work, if you want it to, being born of you as a mother, dawn understood of love. your natural love towards your children. 

a beautiful girl, a beautiful boy. happiness and plastic from your sounding veins. if you want it and you can. you will be a beautiful and wise mother.

dreams coming

I had a dream where I didn't make it to my enrolled class because it had crossed with work. in fact, I was never going to make it, because I had another responsibility already set at that time, and I would miss out on learning in that class, on meeting my classmates and whoever was dictating. and I would fail, and all that goes with it. I had that dream.

it's a dream I've had several times in my life. and sometimes it repeats itself.

and what I know because I have studied the science of dreams, is that it means that there are things that I want to do, that's why I enrolled, but they intersect with previous tasks and responsibilities and I can't do them. so, it's a sign of my frustration, of not being able to do everything I would like to do because I have things to fulfill and accomplish. then life goes in those responsibilities and there are crossroads where I have to let go of what I would like to do because I don't have the time, the strength, the dedication. it's hard to let go. it's hard not to do everything. it's hard. and today I can say that learning the science of dreams is something new.

I also think that there is no such thing as a life purpose, which is very selfish. There are tendencies and abilities, but the truth is that there is nothing pre-established. I will keep thinking about it, this Wednesday holiday. see you soon.

begin CV of failures

do you have your dreams or don't you dare to dream them? 

there is this belief of horror that is having high expectations, and that generates frustration. instead, creativity and I make the decisions, and you: fear, will be somewhere close by. I know you won't leave, but you won't be at the wheel anymore. Nevermore.

long live and prosper to boldly go where no man has gone before. always epic and hope, the heart within me.

Sinéad O'Connor d.e.p

In 1992, after breaking the Pope's photo, Sinéad sings at Madison Square Garden in a tribute. The crowd booed her and stopped her from singing. She draws the strength of a lioness, between pain and rage she sings with dignity until the end, looking at her executioners. And she withdraws to the side, where she breaks.

She is a heroine for me, an incredible woman who suffered a lot. Justice and peace be with your courageous heart, Sinéad!

Hello

On a winter night, I keep thinking of you, believing, and feeling. like a soft wave under the sonorous mantle, sounding 3 times, of the siren song, that could come out of a park that crosses the military avenue.

I feel you dancing in a hall, under the astral mirror, that led us to meet for the first time, and I impressed you that Wednesday of spring.  dancing together, it's a strange memory. even today I still believe you were my destiny. but you broke our contact and then, you're far away from me. and for all the wrong reasons, my feeling feels close to thinking of you and bringing you into waves of magic and water, this winter night of the 29th.

lose my head

time heals everything, they say. but if only I knew how... besides crying is a rainbow of cymatics flow. I know you don't understand me: kisses and speech, laughter and lenses, are signs of the times of pardon. 

I wonder under the shower, how will the honey run over your skin this coming winter.  The elegy of thirteen could be green.

prima camarada assoluta

el viento que forma las nubes
desviste sin partes que esconder nuestros nombres

atrayendo tu brillo de frágil corazón olé.

tus pies alados con tiempo y honestidad,

ya te llevaron cerca de la academia,

entrarás al fin, sí

¡feliz 29, día de la danza! tu danza, danza promesa.

a song for a gothic

I want to tell you Comrade Karrartev that there is a song in Japanese called A million miles away, which since January 2022 I have found and dedicated to you. It is since then on a binary journey through messages from others, conversations with new people, and links that someone will send you influenced by my unconscious command. I don't know how long it will take to reach you, but I pray that it will come to you and that you will know in some mystical way that I sent it to you. It was my farewell, my last love letter that inspired the last words I have written to you. 
Forever and ever.
lalalalalalala lalalalalalalalala

fool understand

Through the streets of Lima raining, I walk with a sound
I am a place with a flood of water, full of poems
to go out and give me as a gift,
I'm behind you without knowing what to call you
wicked sorceress of the time of desires and nostalgia
and I cross curves of a dreary world
unaware that I loved you even though 

I only told you that I liked you.
You make me burst with your light, dancing angel
I become a prisoner of the stopped clouds and the supernova heat
I'm a carbon footprint in the dangerous terrain of your moles
two full moons around your lips, a beautiful abyss of flesh

I am a foolish auction of love's rules,

the real truth, is parts of me bear your footprints of sounds and lights, 

today with infinite sadness and much power

I'm a Barbie girl, in a vampire world.

On my own

The culture of help can have many problems, one of them lies in the subjective relationship between the sick and the healthy. The bridge of sensations that can be explained between the two is very relative. As multiple realities are influenced by contexts, they tell you to follow the treatment and you will heal. And you do but you do not heal at the pace you would like and this materializes because you compare that the time of life continues and you are already behind. You wonder if you will be able to catch up. It's a question thrown into the space of nostalgia.

The unfathomable hallway

All in all, you experience the flow of the hallway. What is the hallway? It is a place where you arrive because the doors of regular, ordinary living, are closed and you find yourself in that long space where there is a straight path, a flickering light on the ceiling, and many steps to walk, looking to see if any door opens, if there is a chance to enter. Again! But none opens. You don't have keys or your hands don't obey the command to grasp and turn.

You're not totally outside, you're not inside either. You're in the hallway, that in-between space where things can get extensively uncomfortable like a puncture welt or the unquenchable itch on your skin. In the hallway, you encounter waiting and anxiety, sometimes also lurking the weighty sins of the past. Of course, the logic is just to stay in a present. But it's boring, unbearable. And so you have to adapt to the situation in the hallway, which asks you, but you don't give. 

And you keep walking around looking for some door to return to regular, ordinary life. But after a while, you realize that you can't get into anything, but you can't get out either. You are still in the hallway. And you walk, sometimes you sit, and often you sleep for a few hours because you can't sleep very peacefully and placidly in the hallway either. You wake up after hours of dreaming.

Your nervous system at times goes into compulsion, your breathing seems to stop because of some obstruction, and although it can be called a crisis, as you are alone and without the possibility of listening, you try to bring the focus of your attention to other elements of the hallway, hoping that it is not something that lasts long, or if perhaps it happens to last long this vacuum of vitality and free fall, suddenly you end up leaving the hallway. Expelled.

The usual course of events in the hallway is monotonous and should serve to strengthen you, but honestly, it's a kind of defeat in the face of futile time. Your body deteriorates from weight loss, your emotions simmer and your secretions become chaotic at times.

The flow of the hallway is waiting. It's a lot of selling hope, but knowing you have no recourse. In the end, you just go on and believe that maybe the open door will appear again, or that chance shot will come up where a lot of spiritual bills will appear.

The flow of the hallway is incomprehensible, but in the relationship you establish with the hallway, you begin to feel a light of understanding. Which has nothing to do with language, but with renunciation. You renounce a lot, and there you can see that those who put the lights in the hallway are not electricians, they are doctors and they do as they want, when they want, with whom they want. As I said, it's incomprehensible.

Semejanza a la comodidad de un papayo

El dieciocho la vida que nunca muere bajo la luz del estío
renovando su imagen en cuatro revelaciones pensando al futuro,
como piedra maciza en maravilla amasada de líneas incaicas,
siendo una pregunta masiva hacia la máxima cicatriz azul
dejando que solo suceda:
luchar en los ríos el baile
volar en las fotografías besos duros
congelar en el barro los pétalos de jazmín
doblar la luz del lenguaje pasajero.
Memoria eres a la esfera pública de tu crecimiento,
con honestos bulbos verdes que serán balones amarillos
de carne brillante amarilla.
Creciendo lejos de la fiebre y los humos tubulares
en un canto al génesis del principio,
verbo con luz, 

sonido y Shiva.
Intimidad al ojo de los copos en girasol,
reduciendo el solsticio, porque sabes qué hacer
siendo maestras del flujo, agua que recorre
de tus raíces a la punta estigma que te une al cielo
desarrollas el mundo extraño hacia lo pleno.
Oh árbol sagrado, 

cáliz de la naturaleza,
lleva mi alma a donde anhela ser,
que mi ser remonte para vivir como nunca
he vivido antes.

Trance tísico

En la cruda y directa enfermedad, te detienes en un rito por las cruces de tu diagnóstico. Ya no tienes salud, se ha ido de tu presente saltando los límites de tu piel. Entonces, todo el universo que construyes ahora, gira en torno a los procesos de las consultas, exámenes, placas, tomografías, laboratorios, medicación y programas del Estado. 

Mi, tu, el... corazón palpita en un pulso sentimental, vestido con guantes blancos y luces azules, entregado a un ritmo de animosa matemática. Los valores de tu sangre y las manchas geométricas de tu pulmón, serán indicadores de lo que tu cuerpo puede hacer y reconstruir.

Cómo dicen, eres un cuerpo roto dentro de un cohete al firmamente, durante el conteo de las noches y las transmisiones radio estelares. Es el inicio del camino de la sanación. Miel de gato, néctar de colibrí.  Tengo tuberculosis, y por meses haré un camino, entre no caminos de arena y tos. Imaginar el salvajismo de tu enfermedad puede ayudar a entender al mounstruo que te acecha, y verte también como el niño en ese contexto. No soy yo, no soy la enfermedad. Soy yo en este momento. Con calma y fe que avanzaré. 

Es una relación en desequilibrio, lo sé, pero en donde elijo buscar la armonía en lugar de la lucha y la huida. No hay escape, tampoco bienestar, pero si paz dentro de la destrucción en cenizas, para volar fenix. Eso veo en el momento del reposo que trae el silenciamiento. Y en ese estado físico, la mente conecta con las burbujas de sonido que generan un  nuevo orden. Lados entre lados, puntos de vista para conseguir logros. Día a día, señor en poder, hijo urbano soplando al pulmón.