Yo quiero ser la otra:
La que escondes de noche,
La de paseos en coche,
La de cosas prohibidas,

Quiero ser la querida:
Por siempre tu derroche,
Cómplice en tus huidas,
La que lame tus heridas
Y sabe mirarte a los ojos
(Cuando ni tú mismo te reconoces,)

Jamás ser la oficial,
Ni la de la silla presidencial,
Ni la santísima catedral,

Yo:
Yo quiero ser templo escondido,
En medio de la sombra del suplicio,
A donde llegas hambriento y cansado
A ofrecer tu sacrificio,
Tu amor
Sin derechos, ni beneficios...

Caemos lentamente al precipicio,
Donde dicen que de allá uno jamás vuelve,
Una sombra roja nos envuelve,
Dicen que ahí es donde los pecados se absuelven,
Ahí, donde te conocí,
En ese bar de mala muerte,
De la mano de aquel con el alma rota...
Yo quiero ser la otra.

Tus patas tamalonas, your fat feet
Fat feet
That makes the ground tremble as I take a step
My feet are flat
To be closer to the earth
God wanted me to remain grounded
To grow roots before I yearned for the sky
My grandma's feet:
Callous, hard, dry
Her feet were old books filled with handwritten poems
Romantic love journals
Her callous feet had to get like that
So that thorns and nails could no longer hurt
My grandmothers' travesia was grand
Her feet were so eager to move on
That they walked on their own
Patas! Patas tamalonas!
Grandmother would tickle my feet
And I'd laugh
Grandma, why do we get feet?
Because God wants us to walk mijo
Even when your feet are flat
Fat, uneven, or they hurt you must always walk
Stand up when they try to force you to sit down
Because those feet are yours
Today I walk, following your footprints
My fat feet being embraced by the hot sand
As I follow the sound of the waves
There you are
Waiting for me at the edge...

El agua esta verdosa;
I take a plunge:
blindly and innocently,
hoping for the best.

I close my eyes
prepare for the worst,
and yet
it does not feel that bad.

I am here again,
surrounded by your arms,
resting;
god knows for how long
but at peace
again.

We live galaxies away
thinking of different things
chasing contrasting dreams
you... you run towards the light
while I ponder about it in darkness

You know...
I too have learned how to tame my shadow beast within:
the one you tend you unleash
with that luggage filled with insecurity
and lies...
...and secondary places in your life
(meanwhile I am your primary care
your home, your flesh, your receptacle of tears
your plate, your soil, your forgotten sketchbook)

how far away are you?
I wait for this chess game to restart
so we can go at it once more
waiting for a different outcome
with no plan b
without a care in the world of what can be
and contrary to advice
good customs and common sense
I will make the insane decision to submerge myself again
in love

Inches away... But in different worlds
I quietly await for the dream you promised me,
Instead I see you buried in years of solitude,

Quiet,
Unwilling to rise with me,
Because there may be something in the ground waiting for you,
Something that seems to be less fast paced and quite more traditional,

Since
I am so unconventional,
So queer,
So foreign to you.
So I tear my wings in hope that I can wait for you
As my flesh burns in desire.

I want to awaken you...yet not even the sun accomplishes such task.

And I am afraid that in your deep sleep one day my heart will be unwilling to compromise,
That impatient heart of mine that likes to walk away and destroy long term possibilities.
That needy heart of mine that yearns for the feeling of your breath over my skin,
Your soul over my soul,
Your flesh over my tongue.

So if and when he leaves
Don't ask where he has gone,
He's never told me.

(But he's there)
Impatiently waiting at the terminal of "maybes"
Measuring the time with the rise of the sun
And when he sleeps he dreams of your hands surrounding him,
Touching him,
Making him feel
Like you and him
belong.

No eres absoluto
You are not absolute
Like Porfirio’s power
Like the laws of physics
Like defaulted theories

No eres absoluto
Ni en lo diminuto de tus besos grises,
Tus brazos astutos,
No existen en luto.

I resist the words that will burst out of my lips
For I know my tongue
Usually lies out of mercy
And compassion

Truth is there’s no passion
Can’t live out of rations
I am not in dire need of love
I can live without the absolute emptiness you cause me

I can definitely breathe without you
No eres absoluto
Y de noche un brujo me cuenta que mientes
Mientes entre dientes
Cuando dices “tiempo” cuando insinúas “siento”  
Hoy ya no me tienes
Dejo el fondo abierto
Y de lejos sueño con las alas rotas
Para que no puedas volver a montarlas
Ni meterlas en tu maleta azul
Ni echártelas por la espalda

I await in silence, like one waits for judgment
I look at the ceiling
And I imagine how it looked when I didn’t know you…
I’ve become so familiar with the ceiling, looking at it every night as if it had answers for them never-ending questions…
Where is he?
Why can’t he see me?
Yet the insensitive ceiling remains motionless, static and monotonous: absolute.

Homeless aspirations:
I left home for you.
Made myself a hut,
A cave, somewhere where you could hide

And you did it well,
You did it so soundly
That I no longer see you.

I can’t find you.

Problem is:
When I found myself
I had lost my vision
For you, for us.

So I redid myself
Ate in moderation,
Was less emotional,
Unconditional, went to sleep in the darkness, holding myself hoping I would come out whole after your interventions of solitude… I was wrong.

Dry mouth, dreams, cautions,
Don’t you know I can see beyond your eyes, even if I try not to?
Don’t you know that I can tell through the tremor of your flesh when you leave home?
Even when you’re next to me,
I know.

So I’ve become an obstacle, clutter in this obscure path that leads nowhere.  As much as I try to see beyond this tunnel, there is no light, there is not a happy ending.

Love should never be silent,
My grandma said give enough hugs because one day you will run out, ******* grandma! I thought, but now I am here, holding myself wishing she was here to hold me as I allow myself to break.

I have known you from before, I’ve known you from my father’s abandonment and emotional manipulations, I’ve known you from my darkest moments, I’ve known you, yet I still believed in that glimpse of light I often mistake for love and potential,
I was so wrong.

You said your hands will one day touch my flesh,
Leave marks over my skin so that I can always remember…
I wish it was poetry you are talking about,
I wish it was a word, yet words are so scarce nowadays, words… even words resist the temptation to fall out of my lips.

When will I speak, again?
So I perform, act on a daily basis
I look forward to the day when I will wake up again:
On my own,
Or maybe with someone brave enough to hold me:
Even at my worst.

We were supposed to make poetry,
A kingdom of illusions falling into pieces as I slowly await universal restitution.

I am not trash
I am not clutter
I am someone who thought “maybe if I” the issue was that I forgot to see beyond I and I ignored the obvious.

I woke up this morning again,
On my own.