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There
Bloated and forgotten.Lying on the way to rot.Gray instead of white.When white was the colour it should had.Changing day by day,Into mushroom pie.How did you die that even ants are not touching your remains?
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Rastro
Redonditas bolitas negritas,En el alféizar.¿Dónde está el gato?En la cama.El culpable inclinando una rama.Menudo de tripita con muchas patitas.Y no es uno,Son muchos... Muchas.Que traerán sus espejos y huevos después de soñar.
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Too wet
Under the bucket,Pink thready meat of sorts.Survivors of the cats and dogs it rained.Without a place to go,Anywhere to happily hole.
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Stories
Oh, I’ve met poetry.I’ve seen it parade over there, above.It goes from sapphire to metal.It is a storm in lie.A wait in velvet for the light.From the whitest white to the most royal of purples.Green it likes.And over brown it fawns.Skies where you want to meet your dreams.Solely to say goodbye.
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My garden
And I let the rage howl among the roses.For the tiny white clover to bloom lost among long blades of fondness.All disorderly, untamed.It seems opposite and quite contrary to order and purpose. It flies savage,Dandelion white whirling.Weedly basking in the unknown.Enchanted butterflies and bees buzzing in and out.Madness.Still it thinks and fruits, my garden.
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Harassment
Have I watched porn?What do you care?Not your business yo! Have I masturbated?Too private! Asexual doesn’t mean,You can go and ask your mean just cause you feel like.Sexual person or not…That’s harassment you know.
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The day I stopped traffic
Oh mine! To my left a green light,To my right, cars move.And straight ahead…A line waiting for the hault to expire. I… I’m blocking road and my red steed dressed up in scratch.But polite I won’t,Since this is the exit I reckon.And my four meters of length,Somehow, must go and squeeze in there. My win of today!I was mightier than traffic light.
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Espejitos
Parpadeo.Color.Nada.Polvo de hadas. Pequeños huevos,Al envés de la hoja.Comienza de nuevo,Sobre la pasión.Devuelta al cielo.
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Gota
Plaf plaf.Sobre la hoja de hierba desliza.Dobla y rebota.
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Mañana gris
Mañana gris.Aleteo.El tiempo se escurre en un gorgoteo.
