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Nis Dec 2018
Blue rain rains on my blue face,
something falls
and it's forgotten;
it's not nothing,
yet it's me.
Yet I
refuse to be forgotten,
refuse to fall,
still alive.
My mind rewinds and whispers
of times when I died.
So I die,
confused and yet alone.
Nis Dec 2018
Dying is a drag,
but I'd take it any day over being alive,
especially on wednesdays.
Life ***** on wednesdays.
Caught nowhere
between here and there,
you stumble,
you doubt if you're going back or forward,
whether you die or you are born;
but yet,
time keeps moving
and you can't fall behind.
Time keeps moving
between birth and death,
one way only,
no refounds.
Nis Dec 2018
I like how,
every now and then,
my poems make no sense.

I start them
with hope and direction,
almost like a vector.
They have weight
when still unsung,
their force unspoken,
their miracle undone.

But soon,
my mind starts to mumble,
to modulate,
the vector falls apart,
my idea of the poem crumbles,
what I meant to say
is twisted,
not really a poem anymore,
but yet
so beautifull.
Nis Dec 2018
Donde mis pasos resuenan
en el eco de mi mente
una mariposa se calla
y parpadea.

La luna me mira
y sonríe,
apiadándose con benevolencia
como sólo ella sabe hacerlo.

Me tumbo en mi cama
y lloro
lágrimas de amor
por ese alguien que no existe.

La miel de mis labios
es agria y salvaje.
Por eso tal vez cada beso que doy
y cada cosa que digo

Sólo nadie puede entenderme,
por eso estoy sola.
Sólo nadie puede amarme,
por eso te quiero.

Sólo la luna de mis labios resuena en mi cama.
Sólo aquí me lloro,
y el azabache de mis ojos
enturbia la realidad
con sus fluídos azulados.


Where my steps echo
in the echo of my mind
a butterfly shuts up
and blinks.

The moon looks at me
and smiles,
taking pitty with benevolence
as only it knows how to do it.

I lie on my bed
and cry
tears of love
for that one who doesn't exist.

The honey from my lips
is sour and wild.
Maybe that's why each kiss I give
and each thing I say

Only noone can understand me,
that's why I'm alone.
Only noone can love me,
that's why I like you.

Only the moon from my lips echoes on my bed.
Only here I cry for myself,
and the jet from my eyes
muddies reality
with its bluish fluids.
Nis Dec 2018
Lluvia sobre paragüas mojados,
sed de semilla de amor;
la caída del otoño
resuena en la profundidad de la nada
y soy yo
pero no hay nadie.


Rain on wet umbrellas,
thirst for seed of love;
Fall's fall
echoes in the depth of nothingness
and it's me
but there is noone.
It doesn't sound too good in English I think, but that's just my opinion.
Nis Dec 2018
Cut and gone.
It was easy.

you would ask.
Cut and gone.
It was easy.

You see,
for some trans folk,
most I dare say,
it's not cut and gone.
Your name,
the way people used to call you,
to know you
to be with you.
It's not easy.

That's why,
many of us
grow multiple heads.
One for my family who wouldn't love me,
one for my closest friend, whom I trust;
one for the random person who reads my poetry online...
I'm fed up with it.
I don't want to keep having multiple heads,
I want my family to know me for who I am,
not the head I made out of their memories.
I want to be me,
and I'm Nis.
That's why I came out on twitter,
that's why I'm erasing this pen name
and letting my true head speak,
that's why I will be soon cutting contact
with those that refuse to see me for who I am.

This is the end of Headless Starfish,
but I'm not gone,
so be it.
I cut it,
and it is gone.
Yep, I'm removing my mask and putting my real (and not so far from legal) name on my poems. I have to group together all of this identities I've been developing trying to hide the fact that I'm trans, that I express like one, and pull through as my true self; be it in my poems, the Internet or the real world.
Nis Dec 2018
Te veo
y estás tan cerca
en el tiempo.
Te puedo contar en horas,
como contaba ovejas
en mis noches insomnes,
y aún seguiría despierta
para contar los minutos.

Te miro,
y estás ahí,
tan cerca en el espacio
que podría abrazarte
como hacíamos antes.
Mis brazos son largos,
pero mis abrazos no te alcanzan,
tu corazón me rehuye.

Cada segundo que pasa
este medio metro que nos separa
se hace más largo,
como si la expansión del universo
tuviese algo en mi contra,
como si la vida
nos hubiese separado
en ausencia de la muerte.

La distancia entre corazones
se mide en abrazos por  segundo.


I see you
and you are so close
in time.
I can count you in hours,
like I counted sheep
in my insomniac nights,
and I would still be awake
to count the minutes.

I look at you,
and you are there,
so close in space
that I could hug you
like we used to do.
My arms are long,
but my hugs don't reach you,
your heart escapes me.

Each second passed
this half a meter between us
grows longer,
as if the universe's expansion
had something against me,
as if life
had separated us
in absence of death.

Distance between hearts
is measured in hugs per secod.
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