This is going wrong, the words
are choking the air out, day in
and day out my presence
grows thinner until my name is
something to brush off from your shoulder.

The sun is going down so many times a day,
have you ever have that feeling?
Seeing your eyes is like wading
into my failed dreams. What am I suppose to do
with your presence so absent of me?

Those seemingly unrelated matters of life
are suddenly connected by the same sadness:
my inability to close my eyes to your figure.
Just when you thought you knew yourself
love harkens you back to ignorance.

The heart always forgets what the head remember
and you get back knocking on the door that wont open.

This is going to be a poem without an ending
because I need you to read it and understand
what I feel. A proper ending, that is.

Human passions are, more often than I'd like, passions of inhumanity.

What do you do if you get off the bed
and find that you haven´t finished
dreaming of the sea?

The problem with this dream is that
there´s always more sea to sink
than islands to be a castaway.

You are going to get tired of swimming, eventually.
Mayhaps you will come out alive of this,
or maybe it´s time to learn how to be a fish.

There is no greater distance than the one that separates two bodies that occupies the same space.

Keep it down, heart. Low and weak,
falling short of standards. Pretend
to be here when you are there.
Keep it under the table,
up the wall and casting a shadow
on oneself, a long and broad one
like an overcast sky.

Step on toes, heart. The wild is here
and it is taking time and silence.
Borrowing time and silence to rub off on.
Time and silence because everything
looks better on hindsight.
Lots and lots of time and silence
make everything look good in the end.

But don't talk, heart. Talk is cheap,
talk is *****. Remember that in one's mind's eye
the house of cards will never collapse.
Slip away, heart. Off. Between the bodies
there is silence and glass. A pearl of wisdom
for you: you will cover just as much space
keeping on the road as going astray.

Break the illusion of carrying water in one hand
and fire in the other. Wouldn't that be awesome though!

Love is a heart shaped balloon with a label that reads
"blow up until it burst into something".

He always tries to wake up with the alarm
buy his eyes usually come early or late
to that date too.

He tries to see himself in the mirror
but only the doubts are reflected, like
watching dirt on snow.

He goes out, smiles with broken teeth
and waves limbless greetings. As versatile
as a possessed doll.

Everybody says he is a normal example of human.
Maybe he is, coming and going without getting
to where he wants to be.

Then he faces her. Contrasting his life choices
with her smile, he realizes that they
brought him there.

He stops at the pet shop window to look at the puppies.

He goes back thinking that in only
50 more easy payments he'll be able to claim back
his heart's past from the pawnbroker.

He tries to see himself in the mirror
before getting to bed, but he notices that
he forgot to bring himself back. And also coffee.

It doesn't matter, he thinks while he waits
for sleep to come. The pawnbroker is
an allegory on letting go.

The life of a guy without coffee
is like getting the short half of
the wishbone, every time.

In a sea of rain what you'll get is wetness.
You are no going to get out all dry and cozy
Here comes the rest of the night.