I miss you

I miss you and the truth is I will always miss you, when october hits, when I walk on those streets that gave us such a first date.
And when the sun and the wind feels once more like they did back then, yeah those reigns will always belong to you.
Those days won't come back to us but they are not lost either and maybe if we focus on them just right they can still bring more good than harm to us.

Love was, Our love was many things and you did perhaps so much more for me than I could did for you, I don't know, it feels that way.

We were that polygon in the grass eating and sleeping and the streets between my house and that place with a broken window that we never ever came back to.

I like to think we were smiles even if we were also tears -we still are at least from this side, and I dare to think not just here at that-.

I feel like I failed you awfully and still you saved me in the darkest of all the impacts.

I was able to hurt you and still those to whom I swore allegiance and tried my best to impress or not to fail so badly ended up doing a lot of damage...on both sides.

I will always miss you but I have to tell to myself that we shouldn't come back together because I have this stupid hope of things and beings that I can't really fully understand or reach.

I'm broken but also I am healing, you know, not just from you -or rather from the things I did to you-.

Fun n Games

That was as it never before it was, or maybe once or twice but not in a birthday weekend.
That was and it was fun while it lasted and it will remain like that.
And friendship as it remains is a thing of magic and wonder, at least I think so.
The future stays around though, I have to see it happen anyway and I have to run it while I have the strenght to do so.
The doubtful dark path remains and I hope to walk in dark valley and remain as I should or die if I must in ways that I want.
Tomorrow starts every morning even if my age grows shorter for myself.
The future comes but it won't come if it is not acted upon.
Happy post-birthday to me.

Fault

It is not in the stars...but how do I cleanse the fault from me?
And how do I fix what can be fixed and let go what cannot?
I cannot tell and so I say it might be a valid wish to ask the wisdom to tell them apart.
I have not that wisdom or any other, but rather despair to give and sell.

Such a rare product, we all might have but want not to buy.
For whatever we have should be enough for us, however big or small.

The darkness eats and cannot be defeated.
It eats from my heart as it now stands and what is to be lost is already lost.
But not everything, there's yet another thing.

And what is to be gained, where can I find?
Not in the stars it lays...but how do I find within?

subvivir

A veces creo que buscamos a alguien enfermizamente para que nos ayude con el peso de nuestra propia existencia, a veces creo que al menos yo no puedo con ella solo, pero no tengo otra opción.

Es precisamente por eso, porque creo que estaba restando, drenando más que dando que me como mis mejores palabras y permanezco en silencio en la oscuridad de este sitio que nunca más podrá tenerse en paz.

Porque la oscuridad me ha estado consumiendo, la decepción y la tristeza quizá por los últimos 2 años, quizá todo tiene sentido en ese contexto.

Esta roto, la vida lo esta.

Todos caen.

I breathe and some calm inhabits my being, but darkness still stands, our actions, all of our actions probably broke the woman a little too much, her actions have their own part undoubtfully but this goes further and further than just that.

The concept of family that I had has been wiped out of the earth in these days, what I have left I cannot tell and classify, I have something left make no mistake but a darkness comes to take this place away.

I feel a need to run as well but not to abandon not to let.

Won't

Probably I won't ever get a child
And my soul will whiter slowly.
I won't give up trying to create art
but at times it feels as if it's already too late.
I won't give up nonetheless.

Good things come and what I left was not my destiny
But in the future it coulda been nice and safe
However it is my fate not to have it nice and safe
That might not be the way for art
But it is the path of mine.

I might be the villain of a tale
and this is something I shoulda seen earlier,
that the chaos of this place owes to me it exists.

I might be a scorpio even if I was born in may.
And hopefully old habits can die as hope has.

Las sendas de un árbol mayor.

Llego Diciembre, llego con frío.
No se ha llevado todo, pero lo ha dejado marchito.
Los surcos de piel similares a los de un árbol abatido y mayor.
En ellos aparecen las formas de mi miedo, constante, pero que quiero creer podré enfrentar.
No se si ganador o vencido.

Llego Diciembre y no solo se va el año.
Pero lo que se va, se ha estado yendo por tanto tiempo que ya casi lo olvido.
Allí, guardado entre marcas de piel muchas, más allá de esos ojos que se han desgastado cual estatua antigua...
Allí esta el rostro de un recuerdo, tan lejano y distante ahora que me costaba percibirlo.
Las memorias a las que me aferro yo y solo yo de este lado, aunque dos o más estabamos cuando se acomodaron en su sitio.
Veranos, veranos lejos, de esos que no vuelven, antes de que un extraño monstruo me tomará el cuerpo y algo oscuro inyectara, por vez primera más no por última y me hiciera resentirle, sin entender nunca que le resentía en primera instancia.
Veranos apenas un poco más cercano, luego de que su ausencia notará y admitiera como aceptable, veranos de Guerra y mi corazón en dos dividido, lo correcto no era su postura, yo era egoísta y creía que algo de ello saldría, que ganaríamos de vuelta a mi madre, que otro camino podía volver a ser transitado por sus pasos, en praderas lejanas al sur a las que nunca volver dictaba el destino.
Los primeros bajo lluvias torrenciales, en casas en medio de amplio campo y un programa repetido en exceso, los primeros en el bosque atardeciendo rodeados de mosquitos pero encontrando el camino, fuerte la mirada y fuertes los brazos y los mios correctos para ayudar y ser ayudados.
Los segundos, a veces gratos, caminando detrás del mercado distancias enormes entonces, intransitables del mismo modo ahora, cortisimas ahora, otrora ingratos, desesperados, aterradores, claustrofóbicos, indecisos. Los segundos a veces gratos por el mero acto de oprimir un sencillo botón y no más.
Actos ingratos míos suficientes después de ello, un enojo que explicar no puedo.
Piedad aquí y allá, recuerdos buenos aquí y allá aún desde entonces.
6 años de los últimos viajes, largos aún, prudentes aún, menos incluso, caminata en el centro en el verano del 2012, integra aún sobretodas las cosas. poco después nada, a modo que el relato que repetía fuera de tiempo y contexto parece un mal harto menor.
Un tío decía que repetía desde antes, pero repetía de un historial bastante más amplio, de un breviario del que guardo paginas en mi cabeza para construir la historia de lo que soy bastante antes de que fuera.