Todos mis duelos inútiles,
el cabello entre los dedos,
los tonos de todas las voces
que amo y aborrezco.
El llanto en el suelo,
todas las explicaciones.
La cueva, el silencio.
La noche.
La tarde.
La mañana.
Todas las horas
en vela;
la madrugada.
¿El hacha en el bosque?
¡Destroce!
¿El hacha en el bosque?
El aislamiento.
‘I walk down the staircase, magnetic pull.»
Staircase – Radiohead
At the bottom of a staircase, I was waiting… waiting for a petition, ¿an order? «What do you want?». I’ll do it… I think… I don’t know; it was an abstract realm of wishes.
Dirty and wild
from the rain last night,
he makes me dance
a su voluntad.
His current draws me in,
his waves push me back
and away, when he is mad.
And I just yearn
the soft atardecer,
the sweet evening light
en tonos pastel
that he reflects so well
when, at dusk, he is down
and calmed.
Of course I was mad
(I am)
contra mí,
nadie más.
Pero esa no es la palabra:
it was more like ‘dark‘.
(Yo no planeé
nada de esto).
I put a hoodie on,
black,
the headphones
a todo.
And I walked
al sonido de la determinación
en mi cabeza,
sintiendo que soy
ella,
a black-eyed
Helena,
a greedy
Sinatra,
a deadly
Magdalena,
y a la vez no.
I promise
I just feel
lucky,
and frágil,
affectionate
to the core.
Honestly,
I don’t know how to do this
if not with love.
(So, kill me, Sarah,
«it’s gonna be a glorious day».)
Estaba respirando brasas,
asfixiándome entre el fuego,
completamente desalentada
como para salvarme del incendio.
Ok, I would do as they say.
I don’t need any more danger
in my head.
I won’t complain
ni lo mencionaré otra vez.
Luego, cerré todas las puertas,
pero dejé las llamas dentro.
No pensé volver a sentir
lo que estoy sintiendo.
(feel?, ¿qué?).
Pero vi por la ventana
la luz del atardecer.
Lo siento, yo…
simplemente tenía mucho miedo.
Déjenme ser, por favor:
perderme es lo único que no tolero.
—Can you hear the alarm bells?
—I think they’re just in your head.
—Hmmm… I don’t feel well.
Except for the first verse
that song could be all mine,
I guess.
I just have this thing with the past.
«Nostfilia», he said once.
«I will steal the name», I planned.
But it was «algia» today.
It certainly was.
If you ask me, I don’t like to be chained;
I asfixiate.
I was drowning today,
yesterday,
whenever,
anyway,
I didn’t know where the water came from.
Was it when he asked?
Did somebody asked…?
But what did he say?
(Who the fuck could think that?)
So, did the river flood
and devastate
my mind?
—I am just confused,
I think I said out loud.
I am just confused
about the bright colors in my mind
(RGB, CMYK;
which Pantone is the pain inside?)
Ruby.
I was singing Shallow in my sleep
thinking about a refuge,
a rounded ruby bright red
protector inner circle
of the core.
But I still feel
the panic attack
within myself.
That’s just what it was.
La realidad alterna 