There sits a man
With a wooden leg and a thousand wrinkles
Smoke around his blue sailors cap
Smoke shrouding all but his eyes in a mysterious sense of pain
The smoke fades from a gentle grey to a dark midnight black
Now there are only the eyes
The purple eyes sticking out of a shroud of black smoke as if they were the beacon to heaven
The eyes stare into the distance
Suddenly a part of the black smoke curls into itself and explodes in a rush of air and stale old smoke
Now there are two dots of lucios purple smoke
They float towards me and stay there
With a strange glint in them they look towards the black smoke
I say look for that is what they were doing
The blavk smoke starts moving inwards
As if there were a great source of power summoning theme
The speed increases and I feel extreme fear and power
I blink
And right there sits the man
With a wooden leg and a thousand wrinkles
With a blue sailors cap
But now his wrinkles are different
They are black
Like the smoke that moments ago was around him
That smoke was now in him
His skin was normal
Soft as a baby but his wrinkles were black
The two purples eyes that float before me seem to beckon towards the wrinkle in the mans brow
I walk forward and I look into the wrinkle
The eyes float behind my head now
Suddenly a force pushes me into the wrinkle
I fall in the vast abyss that is this wrinkle
And I feel it all
Pain
Fear
Love
Death
Hatred
Apprehension
Lust
Sadism
Masochism
But above all guilt
The horrible darkness pushes the guilt into my soul and crushes me
What did this man do that is hidden by his wrinkle did he....
There sits a man
With a wooden leg and a thousand wrinkles
And a blue sailors cap

Liliana,
¿está mal que esté celoso del vaso que toca tus labios lucios? o el sol de la mañana que acaricia tu suave piel?
¿es incorrecto que soy celoso del viento de la tarde que suavemente mueve su pelo sedoso?
Y la música que penitrates tu alma?
Es malo que estoy celoso del espejo que ve y refleja tus ojos como la luz de la luna sobre un mar en calma?
¿está mal que esté celoso de la ropa que abraza tu cuerpo como me gusta hacer? O la música que llena tu alma con pasión?
¿es incorrecto que soy celoso del gatito que le hace sonreír? ¿y la almohada que acuna suavemente tu cabeza mientras sueñas?
¿está mal que estoy celoso de aquellos que pueden escuchar la música encantadora que es su voz? ¿o aquellos que pueden ver la forma en que camina con elegancia como una princesa en una película?
¿es incorrecto que en su ausencia parezco a un barco sin un timón? ¿o que te echo tanto de menos es como un dolor físico?
Si todos estos sentimientos están equivocados nunca voy a ser correcto, porque las palabras en este poema nunca puede ser suficiente para decirte cuánto te amo.