the lie that you believe

the bacteria that you feed

you let me be an exit

i am the whore
the needle in the vein

i am the absence
you have for more

y en una danza impía besa la boca del muerto convencido sabio bebe la vida que quedaba en la senilidad del olvidado.
pero habiendo visto las lágrimas de su padre la pared golpeada que respondía diciendo nada la espalda quebrada quebrada bajo el peso de saber lo que nadie debe saber
y sin esperanza ni siquiera queda desangrarse

o

acogerse

al abrazo del malentendido

a la clemencia del cambio

forgive him now
for bringing grown up eyes
i wish you were
bleeding out
turning the sand
into mud

ask him
to harvest
children's eyes
in another life

and quietly admit
you went dumb
before i brought
a knife to my gut

el tiempo inmisericorde y despiadado
deja caer su garra feroz sobre la línea de la vida
empuja la alegría furtiva de la infancia al infierno del mundo adulto

'cuando uno ama la vida, no lee'

la brutalidad literaria es salvaje y espantosa,
y se desvanece con una lentitud letal,
que empuja a la relectura, que a su vez no trae modificaciones notables

escribir una carta de amor a la literatura sin dirección que poner en el sobre
besar palabras y dejarlas filtrarse bajo la piel de los labios
dejarlas infectar tu carne con sus historias de corrupción, salvación y muerte
con sus historias que son todas las historias que han sido, son y pueden ser
torturándote con historias de amor

inaudita máquina de sueños, majestuosa e innoble, eficaz y venenosa

te amo, con cada partícula caprichosa, te amo con la desesperación del sediento
amo cómo me estás matando lentamente, masoquista y sádica

te amo como tú no amas
te amo como no sé amar

his chest splits open in two perfect halves,
bounded
by a coiling line,
to let two hands,

twined and brittle as a dead tree branch,
numb with the cold that nests
beyond all that's bright,

seek a flickering light.

off the crackle of electricity
something malevolent roams

a thing that frights the very cubical essence of his fourteen homes

the body rests, pulsating asleep,
and falls head first, enthralled

the rattle of bones beneath the earth
the dancing of bones within the soil
the creeping of the corpse
weighed down by its own weight
cursed
to never stand again

The Minotaur scarcely defended himself

we have forgotten the art

the only important art

of making fire

i did think you were right
when
you said i was mutilated inside

but no
for once, and perhaps from then on
you were wrong

i am not mutilated inside
nothing's been removed
but it's been given

and now that i've accepted it

understood it

i fly
while you
float

My heart is a flower,Budding, blooming, dripping dew,Dropping petals all over the place,Making a big hopeless mess,Stinking things up,Waiting for someone to come over and suck the pollen out of me,Suck me dry,Til I wilt,Til I am nothing,Til next springMy Heart is a Flower

I, I've been lonelyAnd I, I've been blindAnd I,. I've learned nothingSo my hands are firmly tiedTo the sinking leadweightof failure
I've worked hard all my lifeMoney slips through my handsMy face in the mirror tells meIt's no surprise that I amPushing the stone up the hillof failure
They tempt me with violenceThey punish me with idealsAnd they crush me with an image of mylife that's nothing but unrealExcept on the goddamned slaveshipof failure
I'll drown here tryingto get up for some airBut each time I think I breatheI'm laid on with a double shareof the punishing burdenof failure
I don't deserve to be down hereBut I'll never leaveAnd I've learned one thingYou can't escape the beastIn the null and void pitof failure
When I get my hands on some moneyI'll kiss its green skinAnd I'll ask its dirty face"Where the hell have you been?""I am the fuel that fires the enginesof failure."
and I'll be old and broken downand I'll forget who and where I amI'll be senile or forgottenBut I'll remember and understandYou can bank your hard-earned moneyon failure
I saw my father cryingI saw my mother break her handOn a wall that wouldn't weepBut that certainly held inThe mechanical moans of a dying manWho was a failure
My back hurts me when I bendcause I carry a loadMy brain hurts me like a knife-holeBecause I've yet to be shownHow to pull myself out fromThe sucking quicksandof failure
Some people lie in hellMany bastards succeedBut I. I've learned nothingI can't even elegantly bleedOut the poison bloodof failure