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Blub blub blub,
The tupper is below the kitchen’s counter.
Diving I must, so I breathe.
Hold it!
My mind wanders and colour fish I see!
Some square, some cylinders of dairy.
The one I need,
A blue scaled thing I retrieve.
Up, up, carefree.
And my knees did not protest.
Cheers!
Urging, urging, hurrying.
A bully cracking resolution.
Exhilaration behind façade,
the pages fell,
And the insurance gone to hell.
True, I bumped you.
What were you doing right behind in a street going up?
Trying to gain a mere metre of vantage?
Or searching for a fool to scam?
Damned you and your eyes.
And I curse you ahead,
To be shot in your spine.
At least to discharge.
Since I can't get it done out of spite.
Fisga entre el ajuar.
Un papel oficial con sello de duda.
Un teatro de boda,
Helada la hora,
El pez que abre la boca.
Al siguiente trecho,
Muerta y sin besos.
Un ave la busca.
Nula la espera.
El velo ondeaba enganchado a la caña.
Y el texano un escupitajo,
Tabaco.
La carga de datos no alcanzaba.
Entonces sobrevino la desgracia.
Y la app se quedó ahí.
Sin que quisieran borrarla.
Tampoco usarla.
La musa bebe Chivas.
Es de regalo acento,
Bajo el peral parloteando con los cerdos.
Desaparición.
Y la maleta rosa que falta del closet.
Cirrosa,
Podría caer en cualquier parte.
Las marcas de hena,
Un mandala de libro para colorear.
Una muñeca en ángulo extraño doblada por la mitad.
Los tres osos del zoo husmeaban por la jaula,
Un cuidador dio la alarma.
Y el forense con una sola palabra:
Suicidio.
Dentro de la maleta.
Con marcas de golpes en las muñecas.
I walked through evanescent ashes,
A fog of dust raising.
Trust in a forlorn error of heart.
Derelicted my soft wishes.
Betrayal was the crow’s call.
A while ago,
Still kicking up in verdor.
Indeed on ground.
Now a dried corpse.
Mirror mirror,
Hanging in the wall.
Can you tell me,
Who is this old hag looking back?
Mirror mirror,
Can I ask
When did I become wrinkles and despair?
My reflection of today,
Not the photo of yesterday.
Time to burn those mementos i treasured more than time!
Arriba en el tejado,
Narra con el ceño fruncido un cuento.
El cigarrillo es el único que escucha.
Recuerda las luces de neón en el portón.
Dira dira up, up.
Los lazos del vestido se agitan con libertad.
Se hurga en la media agujereada,
El zapato sin tacón,
Medio rimmel embarrado.
Ayer....
Liba de la copa,
Muda de color.
Sobre el escenario su rival.
La aceituna se fue por mal lugar.
With a galaxial name,
It has nothing of the stars out earth.
No much but a humble maid,
Waltzing in a prairie among other skirts plied in eight.
Soon a rugged rebel,
Pinching skin,
Hitch hiking way.
Going to foreign patches of lawn across the stone divided fields.
