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It seems like you write
because it suffocates you
so much letters,
because you do not keep in yourself
more space for damages,
and you consume them with each drop
from ink.
Your thirst is so ruthless…
That you leave deserts when you breathe.
Even the paper feels when you write on it.
With craving,
Almost without effort.
Simply dropping
what already weighs,
the shadows of your caresses
more sincere.

COMMENTS

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Cadrewolf2
19:18 Apr 29 2024

Amazing words and thoughts

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Gomez
19:42 May 03 2024

::applause:: "Your thirst is so ruthless that you leave deserts when you breathe". amazing line. the whole thing is great. you have talent.

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UpTheMountainPath222
16:52 May 17 2024

Our senses give a rose its fragrance and chocolate its taste.

Nothing has weight or value unless we assign it. Truth is only what we perceive.

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POST COMMENT

Your departure brought the wind and I get catastrophes.
Now I have a hole in my chest
And leaks in the eyes.
You chose to withered flowers
And funerals in the stomach for each dead butterfly
With each step of distance.

They have sunk in tears airports,
Flights have been broken,
He has fucked up everything he had as a shared address.
Something of yours,
something of mine.

And we saw it coming from the beginning
And we still did not put on the lifejacket.
How much we always liked the risk
And look at us now, my love,
Walking on their knees,
Living below ground.

Everything was fucked up when we started to not noticing of our absence instead of missing each other.

I don’t want to answer back anything to you. I just wanted to tell you to take care, that even though I protect you, sometimes I can’t put up with you, and you make me fall. Try to agree with the brain sometimes, let him listen to you.

I know you’ll be by my side all the way, as well as I know that it is impossible to know how you’ll end up at the end of it, but honestly, I don’t want to know yet.

Although there are moments you feel punctures, accept they’re not stabs anymore, and that you’ve reach to heal the wound, but, as any other scar, in bad weather, it aches.

Keep on going, there’s still some strength left to continue.

He was crazy, he was mad as a hatter
And he was handsome, handsome as fuck
He knew the moon
And danced rock in front of the mirror
And went out
And drank
And he did not remember anything the next day

He was broken, as much as a rag
And he was hard, hard to gnaw
And he was a damn bohemian
A poet from head to toe
He would get up to his ass and cry
And he did not remember anything the next day

He slept little
And he had the most precious undereyes bags
That they had ever ignored

He loved
He was able to love
Above any shit I wrote to him
He was fucking perfect
And his only fault was me

Let me get to your chest
and climb in the back,
whisper to the ear that I love you
(inaudible and a liar like life itself).

I have counted your moles,
in the end they are one hundred and eighty.
It’s a nice number,
it ends just as I wanted it to end:

At zero, how we will all end.
And if death is not pretty
I do not find beauty.
Perhaps it’s illusory.

I keep climbing the vertebrae:
I have them as customs
between your body and mine,
I lost my passport.
There is no noise there is no silence there is nothing.

And I think it’s beautiful.
Between sines and cosines I have failed.
I am of arts.
I got lost in your museum,
Nested in your burrow just below the belly.

The dew of your pupils rains onto me
I tickle in rough cavities.
I write you poems on walls
that are going to be demolished.
But it does not matter, because once,
they were there with me.
With you.

I should stop promising you love, because in the end I will believe it.

My purpose is to let myself fall.
On the grass, in the sky,
In the clouds, in the night.
In the fear.

A continuous fall,
an overwhelming swirl.
Without end.
Without beginning.
Without intermission.

Floating in the nothing;
In music and in
The mess that is this.
You surround yourself with pain and just that.

It has nothing to do with tranquility.
It is not paradise I was promised.

The threads are broken and we are going
on opposite sides.

Two parallel nothings.
Complex spaces in time (?)
And labyrinths;
Of endless falls,
They go through my mind in a second.

I am falling.

No one told me about this.