Y ya no se correrme, 

sin el ritmo de tu musica, 

y el fantasma de tus dedos. 

Tragedias

I

Circe invocando los vientos que alejan, 

y alargan esta Iliada. 

Alas quebradas, derretidas, cara secandose en pieles dormidas. 

Y despiertas, 

Heroidas llorando. 

Quizas me encuentres, si grito, si me rompo la voz, si me quiebro la garganta. 

La oscuridad que retrasa el viaje,

El camino de vuelta, la niebla, las noches de luna muerta. 

El rastro de espadas de cobre. 

El Sol de las Hesperides, años luz de este reino de musgo y brezo, 

donde no llega calor ni brillo, 

donde el frio se carga en los huesos. 

Qué dejó la espera de camas vacias, de dormir helado, y de vacio cerrado? 

Tormentas contra los Acantilados de la Locura, viajes a Gigantes dormidos. 

Las botellas gastadas, solo el veneno queda, 

la cicatriz y la herida malcosida. 

Quizas me encuentres, 

navegando esta tragedia de siglos de marcha y batalla. Quizas los dioses contemplen alguna clemencia. 

Sin tripulacion ni quilla,

sin viento en las velas.

La luz espera. 

Pacts with Devils

Written in infernal and with blood, 

the pacts, the demons, the lies

But you don't win this battle.

The chains break. They're cracked. 

Your heart, ripped off an open chest, where nothing lived, the rot consuming way before your death. 

Offered sacrifices to break the pact with demons. Accepted and burned. 

There is a dance macabre celebrating this victory. A small one, a last one, the end of an era of battles. 

Narcissus drowned on the lies of salvation and hopes of better worlds. Oh how I love your dead seed, your murdered children and my hands covered in blood. Oh how close I was from the broken and the mad, how liberating to win the wings out of this inferno of bullshit and torture minds. The spirit grows, iluminating the whole ascend to a world in ruins, but alive, where you cannot reach, the walls built for the first time in the strongest stone, it will resist the strongest winds, fiery curls dancing on it. 

The last time I pronunced your name. Your first death. The knife and sand burying fast. The Nothing left behind. The Blessed Nothing. 

Outer walls

The only part of the city that is known.

The slums and cranky parts just outside. 

Where the poor and the broken hides.

The  glances of high towers and shining domes, far away.

After these outer walls,

Sleek with blood, from so long a battle.

The old soldier has seen the core of the stronghold. Never more than a glimpse, always too weary to secure positions. 

We pray for conquest.

We hope for victory.

But the war might continue,

Violently crashing against carved stone.

Healing Journey

 The loathing of another healing journey,

Another rebirth after yet another full burnt.

More failed counsel and letters to myself,

Trials of fake freedom and stubbornness of belitting and forget the harm done.

But it's just another dagger,

The collection is big.

The healing won't remove the scars

That leave the skin marred and twisted.

Just keep walking,

Now with a limp,

Now half blind,

And survive.

Healing is for the ones that find safe Haven and gentle carers.

We are still in the battlefield.

Hooked on Hope

 

To have such a heart that only needs promises,

never to come to life.

Just words, soft and sweet, a dream tale.

To turn all into a walk on the clouds, with the pinks of a sunset.

 

To find out that the clouds can’t sustain any life

And rain yourself down.

Falling, panicking.

Ending in a bloody mess.  

Do not dare not to dare - C. S. Lewis

 

It started one summer afternoon, with the tender green leaves.

You said ‘dare you to jump under the bridge’.

 And with a kiss and a dive in, you disappeared.

 

Where you went to, with the trolls and the dryads?

 

It’s autumn now and the waters are rising.

I run this forest once and again.

The bridge has fallen; the path is cut down.

Did you forget the sun in the depth of the gorge? Will it turn you into stone? Are you already asleep in a rocky dream, covered in moss?

 

It’s autumn now and the waters are rising.

I found the witch’s hut and the whispers of curses, but there is no door, there is no answer.

The heart grows tired.

Where did you go with your dares, and shining eyes? Will their light be swallowed by winter and darkness?

 

Autum is coming to an end. Winter is devouring what is left.

The waters rush down the stream, taking everything with them. They might reach the sea.

I run this forest once and again, never to find you, no promise or shadow.

The water will freeze soon enough.

I can’t run anymore. There’s an echo rumbling through the trees.

 

At the edge of the bridge, finally I jump and dive in,

The kiss for bravery cold in the lips.

I know where you went, with the auburn leaves washed away.

Would you still be waiting for me?