PÓLVORA Y TRAICIÓN

The pain I inherited always comes in waves, contractions that mimic  those heroic aches of birth. You never know what might grow  on barren land, what hides beneath the surface of your manic slang. He will never be you, will never have your legs cold against my back at the darkest of times. Nothing feels good anymore, nothing feels real you know the things that I do when I'm in pain, come and take me or kill me just don't leave me, please stay. Did you just want my flesh? Nothing else? Such a crazy thought, never took you for one of those. Vulture, vulture on my wall who's the ripest and ready to fall?

One day you’ll be old sitting on a porch  looking at life through cloudy eyes Yellow and grey, longing away towards that empty feeling that your gut portrays Screams of children playing and your victim by your side caressing you, loving you. And you’ll think of that year that spring, that ended abruptly with a crescent moon on the rise. Secrets you should’ve told, truths that hanged, this pain I’m feeling you’ll get it back. Ten times worse under the light of regret, remorse, going back and forth finally finding out what you really wanted is now and even before, forever lost.

It took me ten years to kiss the last man I loved How can I tell you now, baby? You’re not the one I long for I wish I could fit the picture stronger, happier. Just not a ripped fracture in tune and soul with disaster. I miss the old days with laughter those atomical dreams  arriving the morning after. But I know the deal of these things that end faster the moments of pain act as reminder. I don’t wish you  love, I don’t want your torture I just feel like heaven should see you butchered. Cover yourself in the blood of these veins. Hide under mechanical wires of agony and disdain just never blame me, for i am done with rage

He would lose it all I wouldn’t,  not a thing. She wanted to sleep within you just forget where she had been. Linger in the ashes of that lighter smoke the troubling thoughts let them burn with incandescent furor. I’m falling back in 717 rolling my way down to the throbbing of your spleen cranial calibrations, unexpected relocations. Let the stupor of tomorrow  be the rhythmic of our chaos. Run! Run! One, he would lose it all. I wouldn’t, not a thing. She wanted to sleep within you just forget where she had been. Linger in the ashes of that lighter smoke the troubling thoughts let them burn with incandescent furor. I’m falling back in 717 rolling my way down to the throbbing of your spleen cranial calibrations, unexpected relocations. Let the stupor of tomorrow  be the rhythmic of our chaos.

¿Es tan diferente?  De una prisión sin barrotes la vida en cursiva sin distracción posible ante el azote del deber, del seguir. Sentencia sin término  y luz sin incendio este fuego quema,  invisible y sin llamas efímero y enfermo. No me quisiste al principio, yo tampoco al final pero el tiempo nos maldijo y no fuimos quien de olvidar el susurro mortal de tu piel contra mi sed.  La redención del inocente que patada tras patada, escondido llora sin prisa, sin demora. Nunca escapará tu voz de este estruendo la mía te sigue sin mirar atrás hacia la elegía de nuestro duelo. No me quisiste al principio, yo tampoco al final pero el tiempo nos maldijo y no fuimos quien de olvidar el susurro mortal de tu piel contra mi sed. 

 Your happiness was loud like dozing off on mum's chest. The soft perfume of bread and talcum, just a vague connector between the murderous strike of reality and the longing of days which shall never come. Life used to be shiny, then  you chose the stabbing. Watching you grow cold, metal blue. My back, bleeding red against the many februarys you endured.  Hearing your ablazing shield, cold steel. My mother's last breath, your father's last bottle. The glory of this city has vanished, the sounds, the music, the colors. All gone. 

Try to survive the endless winter give shelter to yourself. Be here, be there, just stay.  Lovers lost  a million years away, incessantly drifting from the memories they made. Give it a try. They could, they wouldn't but even then, you.  Bite harder, tear apart those insides too coroded, too tangled, unworthy. Deliver me from this torture, you who art in heaven,  glory always follows you but whenever you get close this anger this rage these thoughts do just what they know.  Wound! Damage.  Is there rest for the wicked?