Breathing danger,
the heat in my lungs.
My feelings are
inconsequential right now.
All we need
it’s to get out of here.
Las brasas,
the image on loop:
I do and I don’t,
I do and I don’t,
you must know.
It’s a light so bright,
a beautiful call
that I behold.
But how about him,
whom I met today?
I fear I will never know.
He dances her
cause he loves her
and she is upset.
She can’t remember
anything after
that taste.
Darling, pass me that gun;
forgive us all for what we’ve done.
«The cleaners are coming,
one by one.»
There’s no place for
that kind of patient love
in the broken mind of ours.
[I swear, if it flickered one second more…]
A todas sus preguntas
yo respondía «amor»;
but it was never enough.
So…
«everything must go.»
[Cause if it flickers one more time
I will just jump
or I’ll slit my throat.]
[I won’t
cause it’ll flicker no more.]
A todas las preguntas,
un hacha.
A todos los caminos recorridos,
un «basta».
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».)
Not a big surprise,
you, shadow, night.
I must have known by now,
of course.
But still …
I’m told now
that love from you
then … just died.
I feel I should mark this day
on the cosmic records of ours,
you know, for the sake of her,
the lost asterist of the triad.
I saw that day
—that ancient past—,
I lost my mind.
I saw this day
—this present apart—,
it broke my heart.
(But I just stared at the evening light
—so clear and sweet, so calm—
and suffocate the pain inside.)
Thirty years passed tonight:
you flee.
And I’m sworn
to let you leave.
Maybe in time
you won’t want to be mine.
I don’t want el mañana to come
porque cancela el infinito
and I’m not sure what to do with that.
(But I will find out).
¿Do you hear the sirens
at the beginning y al final?
I swear to you
I hear them in my head
everytime since you commited
____.
And if you want the answer
to your question
that comes in so late,
then it is there.
Even when I say it’s not,
there’s the cause you search for.
Because I saw that day
and I lost my mind
again and again.
And I see this day,
the (de)finite one,
but, Lord, I’m fine.
—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.
Fotografía: «The Same River», derivada de «Cascade River» de Josh Hild (Unsplash).
Me ha parecido cruel
usar el agua en contra mía;
mi elemento, mi ser.
No había entendido
que el océano dentro
no era mío.
No había entendido
que el río…
… que el río
alimentaba el estanque
que subía hasta ahogarme.
No había comprendido
por qué era interminable
el mar eterno, renovable,
el ahogo incesante.
—
Estaba de pie a mitad del bosque,
respondiendo una pregunta
que sí/no ameritaba respuesta,
como no ameritaban preguntas
—ni antes ni nunca—
todas mis entregas.
Pero siempre las había:
la explicación,
la justificación,
la desaprobación,
la vergüenza.
Los «por qués» y los «acaso…»,
∴, el dolor desde la garganta
hasta el sitio de la espada.
Estaba de pie y caí de rodillas;
el río inundó el bosque
y se bifurcó en dos vías:
hacia un lago congelado
y hacia un delta ajardinado.
Y un sol dorado
arrojó una claridad cobriza
sobre la desembocadura.
que se dividía.
El calor bronceado
evaporó el agua-arma,
el ataque, el desmayo,
el ahogo avergonzado.
Y entonces vi que se abría
un pequeño sendero de florecillas.
La realidad alterna 