Her eyes are closed, as the moon drops down, and her superstition starts to bite. That was probably twenty years ago, with a girl I knew once. I can remember I almost cried. She was laying down on the nighttime, with the smell of the train yard creaking through the windows. With only the stroke of her arm, I could feel the softness of her life. We gathered eyelashes like ecstasy for the viewers of the world. We studied the French revolution to teach us how to move like a brown bear. But the silver-lining drew our life's in pieces and like equations on scrap-boards, we never figured our true meaning. Soon, we realized it is easier to hate someone rather than to poke a hole in their hearts. But today, I will feed my sorrow sunflowers, an odd way to make love; I will have trouble living with someone else.

It’s like dividing signals, that is what amazed me. I have to resist the impulse to grab you and hold you. I still see you, slipped into the underlife. The faith of our bodies is crying a little. I love starting things, but I have to pause. All I can take is the greatest pleasure, a replica. I feel like I have a plastic bandage made of lavender. Anxious, with fire to fire, I will try to slip you into the night. As the sun rises and the day turns black, the cotton-fields stand in my way but I still see you. The inevitable is happening. We are reaching for death on the end of a candle, we are trying for something that’s already found us. We are like a storm or some holy dream. Calling out doesn’t do anything. The sound of glass speaks quickly and I’ve been down for son long that it looks up to me now. I have never been heard. I am troubled, immeasurably by your eyes.

I read your letters sometimes
When I’m alone
A window separates
My dream from our reality

I’ve been sinking
Like a flower in a fountain
While you stand there with him
When I’m alone

You got tired of watching
All the flowers turn to stone
But there is a light that it never goes out
And it burns me inside out.

Today you stand there with him
As I watch the flowers turn to stone
A window separates
My dreams from our reality.

Just one smile is all it took
for me to fall for you.
You were a closed book
waiting for the right touch in you.

You opened the door, let me in
Shared your dreams, shined with me
taught me love and how to feel
expecting nothing bu love from me.

She puts the colors inside of my world
takes me back to where I was born
There is nothing left to say
But that I have fallen for you.

I want you to know
there's nothing I wouldn't do
Because when I'm there laying with you,
The birds sing, the sun rises
And my heart whispers that,
I belong with you.

If I had a gun I'd shoot a hole into the sun and love would burn this city down for you.



*Thank you Noel Gallagher

Everything feels in slow motion
Like poison, running through my vains
Going nowhere but my brain.

The day is slowly coming
I wanna talk to you
but you wouldn't understand.
Just take me back to the first day
When we were lovers and nothing else.

Speaking the truth in love
We fought it, made it right,
Walking down the hallway there's a light
That tells us everything's gonna be alright.

Stay by my side
'Till the morning ligh comes out again
Hold my hand
And everything will be alright.

The rainstorm seemed to retire, but that was ignorant to think. I had expectations, nothing so dramatic. All I looked for was a promise or a resolution. You knew my true feelings, but you still wouldn't promise me what I wanted. I felt overflowed, like living in a darkened tunnel. Your own preciousness was silent. What I could have done with a few seconds more, but I watched you through the window. We used to sleep together like that. Now, wire fences rule my life. It is so so silent.

The sun, crawling into the horizon gets ready to receive another merchant soul. Upon his departure he will float away, into the madness of the world. He'll leave his love behind, a dream washed away by the rising night and a new beginning with the arrival of the moon. A sigh of love falls into the endless ocean, with despair crashing into the waves, yet to belong in a new home. He was gone, one push, enough to free a soul away. The wind never brought back what it took away, nothing was ever the same.

The rainstorm seemed to retire, but that was ignorant to think. I had expectations, nothing so dramatic. All I looked for was a promise or a resolution. You know my true feelings, but you still won’t promise me what I want. I felt overflowed, like living in a darkened tunnel. Your own preciousness is silent. What I could have done with a few seconds more, but I watched you through the window. We used to sleep like that. Now wire fences rule my life. It is so so silent.

It was six in the morning while we drove downtown. There were some freaks, but it was just a human pattern. We drove past them and kept going while we watched the children running, the hospitals dumpster and the virgins graduate. We drove into nowhere, and it was dark with the trees surrounding the car. I had been deceived, and I was shuttering to my knees; but there was a rebelliousness to it. It was a battle of shadows, but you still didn’t have any opinions. I said: Let me start by asking you. But I couldn’t finish, it was the absence of badness–the **** beds and the soaking pillows that filled your empty room. You never felt it again, like a dry wall, empty on the inside. Breathlessly I gasped for some air, and reach out for you.

It’s like dividing signals, that is what amazed me. I have to resist the impulse to grab you and hold you. I still see you, slipped into the underlife. The faith of our bodies is crying a little. I love starting things, but I have to pause. All I can take is the greatest pleasure, a replica. I feel like I have a plastic bandage made of lavender. Anxious, with fire to fire, I will try to slip you into the night. As the sun rises and the day turns black, the cotton-fields stand in my way but I still see you. The inevitable is happening. We are reaching for death on the end of a candle, we are trying for something that’s already found us. We are like a storm or some holy dream. Calling out doesn’t do anything. The sound of glass speaks quickly and I’ve been down for son long that it looks up to me now. I have never been heard. I am troubled, immeasurably by your eyes.

Soccer season arrives, you’re excited until you start waking up at 6:30 a.m. every day during the summer. As the first game is on, you arrive expecting to play just to realize you’re warming up the bench. It’s not a big deal, it’s still August and it’s easier to tan while sitting down. It isn’t until you’re laying there camouflaging between the soccer bags; laying like a lizard taking the sun in that your coach yells for you to jump in. You scramble up and trip between bags and *****, making your way to the sideline. You do the final stretches and make your way in awkwardly lifting your hand to high-five your teammate coming out who misses it completely. Then it’s game on, it is time to start playing. But that is not how it goes. 15 minutes into the game you realize you have roamed the same 15 square foot area all this time. I got the ball once, I controlled it on my feet. Yeah, I know. Unfortunately when I turned the ball found it’s way between my legs and fell into the opposite player. ******. I’m getting a good tan though; I think I was supposed to get that pass, I slowly jog towards it. Should I? Well now the ball is gone. Let’s go back to my 15 square foot area; my legs are tired. I see the ball coming from up in the air, I’ve never done this. I’m running, just keep running. No, that’s the sun not the ball. There’s the ball, jump, jump. jump. I jump and a 200 pound guy crashes with me, I’m on the floor. Done.

My father is a handsome guy, or so I’ve heard. Mommy and daddy split, with just the white sheets left in between their lives. Some unimagined darkness spoke with accuracy. These were her gifts, that primal lesson. It is a beautiful and terrible fear; like I have been balancing on the edge. There are no jobs, and snakes inhabit my tent. I pretend, she pretends, we go out life pretending. When at the end the hero dies, the luxury of growing up is not given to me. She has been going bald, but what do I know? She is her mothers daughter. It would be a logical conclusion, but I never realized the emptiness.

I am writing the last chapter. State fairs and musicals fill the city. A season for leaving is coming. The symptoms start to appear: endless music, parades, parties, carnavales, vacaciones. We soak our dreams in alcohol and hang them to dry. Smoke our **** trying to forget. They told me not to look back in anger but it looks the same in every city. She was all I’ve had, Maria. I met her in the trail of broken ankles. Or maybe it was in the woods, what’s the difference? Now, she has become a replaceable friend. I won’t grief, instead I’ll go out and shoot a star. Yesterday I saw her for the last time. It is the final level; she gives me a wine glass and I zip it down putting everything away. Time as a window, I try to fight this urge. All this moments will become deaf photographs, just a printed memory–a life of separated realities. I will just keep packing my suitcase chasing shadows.  I drink and tell stories, some call it fantasy but I just bent over life and practice witchcraft. I am just tired of watching all the flowers turn to stone. I am afraid I will drift into words.

I read your letters sometimes
When I'm alone
A window separates
My dreams from our reality

I've been sinking
like a flower in a fountain.
Now, I'll try to catch the sun
when I'm alone.

You got tired of watching
all the flowers turn to stone.
While I try to catch the sun
I'll figure out who I have become

Today you stand there with him
A window separates
My dreams from our reality
It's burning my insides into stone.