heavy raindrops
drown in teardrops.
surprise.
my hands soaked
in black burning
desperation.

(cannot hide
my face right now)

i've lost you.

turning towards
night.
lonesome late
silence
bursting down the street.
unnoticed
all-night
selfdestruction.

(cold wind won't
lie)

i've lost you.

empty taste
of your light white skin,
porcelain peel.
drunk bare
fingertips
down your
back.
back and forth.

i've lost you.

oily morning
light,
once again.
hurting my
mutilated eyes.

my body in pieces.
cursed/blessed.

somewhere there,
lying on the ground,
crying,
making no sound.
truth.

a new day
had found me.
warm beer
sleeping near
empty bed.

i've lost you.

is there something stranger than kindness?

i woke up with an idea in my tongue:
let's play a song that remind us of us.
let's call it a quest.

my dear, my darling one.
it started out as an apology
and ended up as a misty and sweet
winter garden.

what do fireflies sing in the dark?
your skin crash landed on my skin,
a bottle of gin and two tons
of self driven fingertips and all-ins.

nothing never really mattered
nothing never feels new
never any different.

i thought i knew better
-i thought i was really sorry-
i thought i knew bitter.

this is my dream, but if you don't like it
i have better ones.
buy me some.
i'm just building a house a brick per day.
somehow.

it's been a long time.
that's why they call it No-Leather-Shoes-Holiday.
take these before we run away.
kind of empty by the way.

a wet street is not similiar to rain
but it's a sign that it has rained
fever's not flu
but it's a sign
i woke up with my hands soaked in wine
and begging you two things:
1- excess
2- not going home
can we have only first dates where we can always be
anyone else?
can we exchange habits?
close my eyes between your legs
i love burnt bread, black coffee and butter
and swimming through time towards time
like in a midnight carless highway
fever's not flu;
it's desire's errands
it's a trip you tell no one
it's a page or a screen.
it's a sign,
how would you describe it?

warning: freedom really exists
and it's among us.

highway to nowhere,
the pleasing
hot
breeze
in my head again.
my life starts now.
light up a cigar
with mourning fire.
blood boiling in
anxiety.
morning fire.

up in the sky,
angels dance in
foreing torsions.
(lust is the engine
of the world)
scattered distorsions.
ethic-moral-rationality.

eyes leaking out of
the sliced throat.
an ancient greek comedy.
bones cracking in
panic gestures.
no disaster.
(end of second act)

knife rises to
set-free the
newborn.
no pain.

heart opened up
in two,
and in the middle,
love.
brains bursting in
bold erections.
heaven (there)
hell (heathen, among us)
big purple clouds,
night-resurrection.

confessions bring
confusion.

the desert...oh! the desert.
my lungs are filled with dust.
san pedro's highway.
are you going someway?
highway to nowhere.
devotion to pleasure,
brings obscure light.
faith has no measure.
are you going near?

boiling liquid flowing free
down there.
down the coaly shore,
where moon's waiting
for me.
(darkness always brings
light).

calm, loneliness whispering,
in sharp noises.
water is near.
calm,the hatred king
burdens his death.
zany fools driking,
celebrating.
(end of third act)

the sunken earth and the background river:
close your eyes, other part.
the time sleeps on your lap or
under the curve of your lids.
version of us, text message.
imagine smoke in the air
-swear distance-
the smell of rain and the background river:
remember, we were part of somebody else’s
dream /
no command crash for which blood holds no allure.
the smile of a dancer, burnt wandering.
please, something like wind carrying
sounds
something like dark lips speaking
slowly.
can you feel the hunger-driven poverty of desire trying to reach my skin?
or the feathers of fire keep on needing? up.
your night hair a quiet beast inside a lung that is mine.
I never been stabbed but I can tell:
some dagger going through a melted chocolate candy bar
that is called ‘heart’.

One drink, you think.
Not bad, you drink.
One more, right up.
Two drinks.
Hurry, you think.
Deep breath, you drink.
Third drink.
And fourth forth drink,
alcohol this night
will **** me, i think.
Not bad, you drink.

Barefoot baring burden, in the street again.
Fifth drink, you flirt, you drink.
The naked bottle, hiding in-a corner,
burning, trying to be.
(desperate).
Willing to see.
Six drinks and
*** things.
One more, before night.
I think:

To death we´ll drink.
In life we'll sink.

The glass broke,
and in a soft warm mist,
i think:
not bad, to drink.

settlement. now what?
settlement. snow & no hat.
match, hatchback: noise, death, money --->
nothing distinguishes better MEMORIES
from MOMENTS
than the SCARS they leave.
settlement. follow follow.
settlement. destroy with no sorrow.

i'm taking mexican food, this queue is evidence.

settlement. you'll conquer every piece of land you step.
settlement. god'll take the form you need.
dreambook, hate fact hook ---->
baby poems in the dark:
they tell light is nothing but
two or three ideas altogether.

no sorrow??
uhuh maybe tomorrow.

we won't know some things until they're gone:
1- the air is thicker when
2- the air is thicker when your eyes
3- the air is thicker when your eyes had a few and then
4- the air is thicker when your eyes had a few and then crash into mine.

do you fancy some vitel toné in bed?
help me write my epitaphs...
one for facebook, one for linkedin,
"a restless god eating brie and drinking wine the expressionist way"
ancient aliens & the word 'persona'.
i was raised by jungle animals,
tamagotchis with mean eyes
and all my friends.
now that's gone.

do you think poetry is gonna buy someone a house?
start falling apart
work
riot your secrets
kiss and kiss
whisper your way out.

We dream of electric shocks,
data, meetings and dirt roads
away from the pavement.

Sunday, sun people, indiscriminate leisure.
Papers, the dog that smiles.
This gymnastics makes us better people.

We make up words that sound good. poems
and fruit salads. who would suspect that
is a pompadour a hairstyle? Or what to see
Defense and Justice would be a real pleasure?

I think it would be good to play a Pablo Emilio for
define this situation.
Pablo Emilio is a card game: four cards are dealt
to each player on the table. The idea is that they form a
Square -two above and two below.
Players can see once the cards.
Just once and memorize them. Almost like spying
through an ajar door. The two above are unknown:
Based on that then we will build
our game. The goal is to score the least amount of points
possible by swapping cards with the deck.

There are wildcards; 7, 8 and 9 allow you to make special movements.
And the jack of spades is worth zero.
That's important to remember
because all the other jacks are worth eleven - in a distraction you can
miss this card by changing it with a lower-scoring one-

The hands are played fast and everyone has their method. Sometimes they come to
complete one or two hands and you're done. Remembering the ones below and without knowing the ones
from above we are seeing what to assemble. If we put two or three of the same together, we throw them away
rigged. If not, we are methodically changing one for the other looking for
something.

Pablo Emilio is won when someone sings Pablo Emilio.
And whoever has the lowest score wins.
Naturally.

The important thing in this game is memory, some lights in
certain moments and taken chances.
We could study the repeal of the name Pablo Emilio
or start thinking about the possibility of assembling a low
scoring game.
We could think about what the other has or how he played his previous hand.
But first remember what we have.
Kind of that's the key, but I don't know whether to mention it now
in this short poem.

Contemplate the noise. Comply with chaos even on times of unavoidable crisis.
Or with the secret-warm-love watermarks on those photos that are only ours.
Blood and silence of dirt streets
that lead us away from the pavement. Electricity.
Everything is in ebullition. So do you.

You, smile melting into music.
You, smile singing near my ears.
Far away, facing lonesome
season.
I have nowhere to go,
but i know we'll meet in dreams.
That's our secret.

Tender eyes and
perky *****.

You, night swaying in between days.
You, a woman's face in a porcelain body.

Can a bird, when in love,
sing across oceans and mountains
to confess his heartache?

Can you remember
our first kiss?

Sun, rain, moon, heat.
Still awake, or deep asleep.
I know we'll meet in dreams,
and i certanly know i'll find
those
tender eyes and
perky *****.

RUN! JUMP! HIDE!
PROVIDE SPORT FOR THE HUNTERS.
                                                        ­ Jenny Holzer - Inflamattory Essays

job today:
quench the gap.
neither hiatus nor flesh can
venture more
than desorganization lack of proper planning and control
destroying the well-being of the population
fragile skull called lost your keys.
build no bridges, ten thousand bricks, mud, destruction.
demand attention, be chaos.
a forest, disarray, silver bullet
heat, fat mess:
think no one can reach you.
nothing is that instrumentalized not to have your name tattooed.
there is no symbol left to express
all that evil:
reach into the dark.
silly face, playful conversations.

a nice young
golden dog,
barks,
joyful.
i think it's
smiling.

following confusion:
vigil nights,
unstructured rhytms.
the timing of
loneliness.

everytime, searching.
everything, nothing.

emotions in
motion,
no reaction.
close coming
determined full moon.
a journey
searching
understanding.

what am i expecting to
receibe?
the same i give away
with my foolish
acting?

(cannot remember
my dreams)

why is always
such a mess
sharing?

(dreaming is
searching)

endless red
sky. filling
concrete with
tired, golden
leaves.

eyes moving,
tightening.
veins full of
blood,
feeling.

is that
freedom?

outside,
a beatiful warm
afternoon,
smiles.

despised love struck
amazonian charcoal eating poems:

writing asleep getting back from a party
from nowhere to nowhere.
cool blue speedometer for a fast track racing machine
called 'My Heart in two'.

get rid of the missiles, we're surrendering:

goodbye grab my hand stab my thigh
kiss me or dance me
sharp corners and the best of my days:

ice skating on winter's wet dreams
soaked in whisky or petrol
i'm kind of
spooky
right now
but i love you as my teeth claw my flesh
blood black like the ears of the night.

urgent hours begin to bud;
bubble bath and the trace of a marker
like a glowing lipstick
between
the endlessness of space and the sacred nothing.

down a dirt road at midnight
with our headlights off
light pink mangroves
and flashing forward black razors;
dive back to creamy moonlight
creepy gold ringed hand
channeling
a noice:
ball of soil falling to the floor;
the voice of a secret languaje
the voice of a silent languaje
un lenguaje secreto
a process to name Fear;
beauty untamed still ill
purpled nodding dusk
it's a dream or stolen from a dream;
handled spotlight and
         body's wildlife;
buck knife buck knife buck knife
rain-fed meat eating plant
inside the head behind the eyes
rooting moments on blood lagoons;
drive towards
neon fantasy washing machine
a game called 'destroy everything you love'
balm of late rolling down
just a speck, landscapes
a few remain

dive in your blood,
get rid of your skin,
break down your own bones,
drive,
disrespect the seasons:
don't you know, don't you know?
blind in smoke,
smoke in your eyes.
get born above the fire,
airoplaining desire:
build your own gods and their temples:
so that someone or something
can haunt you or hunt you down.
don't worry,
**** your heart and eat its ghost
shout why
cut your mouth
try your lips
let the air become blue parfume
don't you know you can't quit what you don't have?
don't you know, don't you know?
vacant hours with no fury
sure shot: by the window
forever
for-e-ver
we were ment to be, by error or mistake
i'm sure i think

imagine rain as make up,
now and then i may learn to spell your elements,
imagine rain as a handful of dimes,
skin, a line.
now and then i want to burn this place down.
imagine rain as a price,
spice, love or logic.
imagine rain,
one o one, ten sixty, eight and ten
elaborate on that:
no office can tell for all is well.
get into fights on twitter,
get obsessed with nonsense,
run
and
remember:
where the danger is, also grows the saving power.

shadows cover,
partially, somewhat
but no completely,
every corner of
the street.
every corner of
the soft dying
buildings.
however, it's late.
late in the afternoon.
orange sky filling
feelings.

after all, day's coming to an
end.

deep shadows cover
the parade:
tumult of people observing,
walking,
coming to an
end.
life.
routines dripping down
her thighs.
like a minor chord.
poetry of the suburbs,
universe, verse to verse:
concrete, smoke, some beers,
cigars, history, wine,
news.
life.

shadows cover,
almost totally
but not completely,
the crying eyes
of this wrecked,
self-sustaining,
senseless city.

talking mirrors and blue lights
***
beauty hides in gestures, right place time right
***
parfume, let go.
treasure what you lose.
***
a galaxy at ground level
leather coat wandering dialogue

we're getting abandoned faster and faster.