Sábado de noche, ven

Ya está oscureciendo, y de repente vuelvo a mi propia infancia. Es un viaje en ascensor donde hay contradicciones, confusión y momentos fracturados, pero adorablemente siento que es también un lugar donde algo tiene sentido. Y por el reflejo del revestimiento de plateado pulido en este viaje lento para arriba, escucho un crujido mecánico, que si tuviera color, podría ser celeste. Las luces en el techo parecen puntos de cigarrillos que sobreviven el instante. Con extrañeza creo que afuera hay personas de la misma edad, por eso parece que espero que al abrirse la puerta estará ella, la chica del hilo, y en este espacio ensayo una sonrisa, mientras entono la manera más cálida de decir  hola... tu nombre... Imagino en el tic tac de este viaje una vida, donde naci casi quince años antes que tú, en varias calles a distancia, yo por alrededor del aire, tú cercana a la poesía. 

Sentimental y químicos.

Aprendí a sobrevivir ante todo lo que desaparece y lastima, porque también se ilumina en el flujo. Hoy reconozco que eres bondadosa, sensible y peleadora, esperando en el muelle con las trompetas eufóricas del apocalipsis de fondo. Así ha sido cada momento que he pensado en ti. Nunca es tarde para soñar y dejar de callar. 

Para soñarte y darte las gracias por tus gracias, porque haces girar el mundo, y vamos a lograrlo con un salto. Descifrando los lenguajes escondidos por los temores y las fantasías. 

Aunque me he roto el corazón varias veces, tambien entiendo que es el balance de todos los corazones y esperas, porque quién más ama, más lo lamenta. Pero somos pequeños puntos en el universo, y estas grietas son más pequeñas aún. Entre almohadas y vidas somos puntos que se estuvieron buscando entre todo el bullicio, y siempre voy a elegir conocerte en cualquier parte y cualquier momento, para caminar, lavar y estallar, porque esos pequeños instantes válidos que nos cruzamos son los que nos hacen infinitos universos.

Mandarino

An opening somewhere here in front of me, where all is good and nothingness is alive but calm, amid the breathless maze, instead of streets and streetlights. We can see the air, rushing until i'm full of eternity. We need beliefs, home and sweetnees  to forget those limits that enclose us, and be the weird ones and aliens on this surface of dust and greed. As you can see, I'm still by your side.

Aleteo aletea

cerca, cerca de mí, contra todo pronóstico, yo la esperanza con oportunidades, una palabra excelsa, y mis labios cierran tu sonrisa vertical. matándome para resucitar bajo tus brillos vellos.

Tambourine

Your hands are shaped like peppermint candy. But the color of your caresses is a fantasy saga, not a novel but an epic. You, her, super-her: trinity of my love, whose steady eyes from a Renaissance engraving portraying Saturn and Venus are echoes of the magazine of my adolescence. Dreams echo on electric keyboards, with gasoline and batteries, to illuminate mortals in gray. The sky that governs us in blue fire, in fashion. Your name, awaited like dawn and smelling strong like wind and tasting like fuel. you will, will, will blow my mind, drain my brain. it was only a short bye, All.

Break the night

Our hearts don't always turn off or on at the same time. Today I'm in bed, yesterday I was playing in the afternoon, enchanted by a breeze of spontaneity, soft hands with long fingers, belonging to the thin chinese girl Nessa. I didn't think of you, although I think I did in a subtle way, traveling to that Fusion food fair by the beach where I know you were. I endured the discomfort of the burning sensation and coughing, in the afternoon, at night, on the trip to the otaku shopping center and walking to the 18th floor to eat at a Chifa decorated with hundreds of fake plastic flowers. And I think that at night this flu got worse, the consequence of continuing and seeking company, and today I woke up weak and congested.

You know, in the middle of the night, around three in the morning, I woke up with nightmarish jolt, my throat blocked and gasping for air. Standing up, I coughed and took a deep breath, as if I wanted to live, as if in my nightmares the organic nature of sleep had cut off my breath. A way of inhaling clouds that might be around you while you sleep not far from my bed.

I think a lot about how fear and love oppose each other, and are sistered, and eventually also merge. You believe that coming together in a relationship is understanding that love and fear will become one substance between fingers and smiles. I think about you, at times, but I think to balance out the fact that you don't think about me. You know, it's funny, I have the chance to talk to you, you're just a phone call or instant message away, but I can't do it because you won't respond, or worse, I feel like it will make you uncomfortable if I do. You've given me signs not to do it, and so I concede to your refusal. But still, I think about you and desire you. Although it's not the same, my hope is dampened and remains restricted to an empty weight.

I found you after seas of sorrow and my heart mortally wounded, and that's also why Nessa, even though she loves me, and I love her too, we're not close when we close our eyes. Even with you, I don't have you, even though I've found you, beautiful November twin. There are few times left for us to see each other. You know I'm counting the seven times we have left. Seven within ten, and I have to breathe in the middle of the night so I don't drown, because the night demons also tell me something. I'll tell you one of their secrets: the lungs and the air are connected to sadness, and the light of sadness sometimes appears in the silence of dreams.