Lista de cosas que extravie en su apartamento

• jacket negro, talla small 
• jacket gris, talla medium
• camisa de flores, casi transparente
• sombrero azul marino marca Neff
• bolsa de tabaco semi vacia
• el amor en el 2010
• el amor en el 2012
• mil y un "perdon".
• un beso borracho en la cocina. 
• mi virginidad
• mi dignidad
• mi querida
• mi locura, y por consecuencia
• mi cordura.
• Perdí mi musa

a ver quien las recoge. 

Every now and then

Every now and then I have the blessing of feeling like shit.
Yes. I get to do things like fuck my ex and and send a good morning text
to someone that's 1,200 miles away, with a smile on my face.
Consciously accepting that I just fell into a trap again.
The trap in which I lie to myself that I'm over my ex and
totally into this other person. But neither. Or.

I get to feel, what it's like to not feel loved or loving.
I destroy all that is coming. I take my way and shove it,
up my own ass. Ain't that one heck of a blast?
My own emotional enema to rid myself of all this crap.

Every now and then, I have the blessing of realizing my mistakes,
and taking it all as it may, and feel sad, in a certain way.
And understand that this is all a series of processess on processes
And all that is left is "moving forward".

Move ahead. Get away, enjoy what is left. See,
every now and then, I get to not give a fuck
about you, or my heart, and fall back into this trap again.
Until the moment where I forget, that you are there.

Every now and then
I am bare.

The letters I never sent: Number One

Sometimes I wish you were here to talk me through my current existential crisis. About how I don't know how to love myself but I yearn for love. I find myself clinging to the past and wanting to just text you and tell you about my current job opportunity, or more like slackpportunity because I don't have the will to step up my game. Riding out the current gig. "Todo cae, ya veras", you'd say.  I chose to write you a letter instead.

que pendeja soy

You're not here to sit down next to me and caress my hair as I told you I didn't feel like eating today so I drank  beer instead. I'm getting used to not having to pay for my drinks. You know about that baby face. We both share that gene.I look for my phone and almost let you know that I need a haircut and nothing seems to make fashion sense to me. Who gives a shit? Verdad?

About how it's Thursday, and I'm in my apartment in Brooklyn and I don't have any plan of moving other than to shower and take this work stank away. Because tomorrow is Friday and I have 5 different going out plans and I just want to spend time with you. And normally, today,  I'd be out getting into trouble but I chose to stick around and watch a movie by myself.
Finally some rest. Que rico es. 



I almost told him I loved him you know?



 I almost told her again, too. 



But I fell in love with the guy that sits in front of me at work today so. Corazon salvaje. Yo ahi, bien Novela de medio dia en univision. His last day is tomorrow so we are now life buddies. This is my "production life". 

If only you knew how much i wanted to text you all this. And maybe I will someday but 

you're always here so.


Séptima

andaba tu piel, Carmín

andaba extrañando tu piel carmín
caminando por Madrid,
aquella tarde cualquiera
sin embargo, este cuento puede ser largo,
andaba en west village,
caminando en adoquines,
y pa' los fines de esta historia,
no te cuento en donde me metí.
Andaba buscando un calor así,
ese que te lleva de allí
a aquí, es que andaba
una memoria cualquiera,
aquellas que llegamos a crear,
sin decir, caminando esa noche,
de adoquin,
             
                      en      adoquin.

andaba una memoria merodeando,
el frío y el viento no le dio espanto,
y por si acaso, no diré en donde andábamos,
no seguiré divulgando,
andaba ya de camino a casa,
a evitarme un des encanto.
con tanto alcohol en el sistema,
siempre aparecen llantos,
me voy para evitar un duro estallo.
y en lo que me transportaba a la plaza de las Armas,
sin demoras ni despacios,
andaba tu piel carmín
debajo de mi sabana "tri li li".
parece que andaba la memoria repasando
los recuerdos por Madrid.

La Wise: una mini declaración de amor.

En algún lugar de Guatemala, de cuyo nombre,
la poca señal de wifi no me ayuda acordarme,
la Wise, risueña y morena
22 minutos por skype, pudo brindarme.

su cara pixelada, que a mi no me molestaba,
se movía con 5 segundos de retraso,
anunciándome los echos y deshechos
que mi Wise había logrado.

Es que desde hace meses que la llevo extrañando.
desde que cogió sus maletas y se fue andando.
en busca de rumbos, en busca de menos espantos.
en la naturaleza se ira encontrando.

Si supiera lo feliz, que me hace ver su nariz,
su sonrisa y su ojos verdosos gris,
ay mi wise, todas las cosas que te quiero decir
pero un solo "gracias por pensar en mi."
basta para dejarte saber

que te quiero hasta morir.

Energy from my ink

If I write,
and write,
and write,
who reads?

If I beg,
and beg,
and beg,
will you please,

take a moment with my plea.
Shed the light,
the energy within.

Can't you see?
People getting killed without ease.
Yet, here we are learning someone else's'
ABCs,
Crying over things that don't really mean
anything,
or maybe everything,
to just some fiend.

All these things,
things,
things
that don't have any significant
mean,
mean,
meaning.

corrupt our being,
and beings;
they are material,
stagnant compilations,
of what we think is a realization,
of backward thinking at it's peak.

I bet you probably think I'm lying,
but this is just one of the many
cruel realities
encompassed within my stream
of lies,
lies,
am I lying?

I wish I was.
But truth be told,
you're just as valuable
as the next facebook status
that gets likes galore.

So do me a favor.
Forget all these gadgets,
and focus on the energy
that flows

among you. around you. inside you.

and let it show.

A Change Of Season

the cold gets into the bones

of the weak minded,

excited, for the night dwellers

that roam the streets of new york city.

i see your breath,
signaling the fall of temperature,

the shattering denture reminds you
that it is all a game.

weather. nature. it's all the same.

we are part of their domain.

we destroy what we think is indispensable,

yet forget that we are passengers

in a vessel of bad vices, habits that will soon dwindle our existance,

in this instant, i bet you are eating your life away.

inside these weak bones, the cold enters and roars.

signaling a change of season, a treason of some sort,

from my body to yours.

the cold tells me that you're gone.

no matter the harm thats been done
my body seeks warmth.