Thursday, March 26, 2009


As two strangers across
a room
with the heaviness of
a weightless nothing
screaming and unable
to get out.


And they crawl on you when
least expected.
Until the end, when
all that remains
is desperate.

Tuesday, March 24, 2009


eyes in the mirror

like razorblades
made out of styrofoam,
useless to break

is the cruellest minute

divided pleasure

for Ian

It's getting faster, moving faster now, it's getting out of hand.
Morning seems strange, almost out of place,
as the questions arise and the answers don't fit.
This life isn't mine.

There's a taste in my mouth

Something must break now.
The pattern is set, her reaction will start.
Complete, but rejected too soon.
I feel it closing in. (Is my timing that flawed?)

Someone take these dreams away

A blindness that touches perfection,
but hurts just like anything else that 
something so good just can't 
function no more.

They keep calling me

I've been waiting for a guide to come and take me by the hand,
and then it's fade away.
Yeah, the only mistake was that you ran away.
I've lost control. (Don't walk away in silence.)

As desperation takes hold

I've got the spirit. Lose the feeling. 
Let it out somehow and walked upon the edge 
of no escape.

(Where will it end?)


Everything tastes
like memories
that were
and never


Each day
more and more


for Carole Maso

"I want to trace the boundaries of your flesh
with the tip of my tongue."

Pressed against
the weight
of her body.
in the aftertaste;
and remade.


Aquella noche, una semilla
brotó flores en mi cabeza
a la velocidad de una idea
cayendo en el vacío.


The silence that God inhabits
drives me completely insane.
The more (in)sanity,
the less I perceive
of the much


never listened

Sometimes the unsaid screams louder.
After all, meaninglessness dries it up.
(It wounds
like a worm eating salt,
swarming in saliva)
In the end, it was left behind
like a shredded blank

Nowhere near as close
as far as it can be.
At times it blurs so much
it's hard to see clearly.

With each step the fall
becomes more steep.
The upwards spiral
and the backwards plunge.
Always a fault to fall through.
And crack.

tomorrow. Acceleration.

It's not about words anymore.
It stays
and moves
and breathes
and does. Again.

It's getting closer.


It wasn't as expected.
Something almost bittersweet;
like silence.
A weight rooted deep down;
yet persisting


I can't simply know the imperturbability of an immaculately conceived interjection of a chiseled idea upon a transmigrated über-consciousness.

I can't make sense of understanding the linear entrance of a chaotic sympathy in symphony with the silent laughter that burns the eyes...


Una vez encerrado en la mentira, tuve que volver a crear el universo para poder escapar.


It came to be that the closer we got together, the more it began to lose coherence. Eventually, everything was effaced to such an extent that the only remnant was an empty signifier.


against itself.
And lost
its life.

Although he may do the police in different verses

At night, amidst the heat wave that perpetually permeates through this lost bedroom, hidden in the middle of everywhere one can possibly think of; more precisely, every place that everyone can think of inthespaceofasecond, the deciding of putting into non-paper a series of thoughts and ideas that must be later squeezed of meaning because of their heavy meaningness became unreal. As they went outside of bio-logical-pro-cesses into the realm of 'pure information' becoming non-essences that shape the hidden recesses of the corners of reality, so the unreal becomes the simulation of itself, a perpetually devouring simulacra of fiction beyond the conceptually acceptable as fictional. The mirror of the non-inside of the non-real non-space when the established acceptance of properlyenunciatedcodes is torn asunder in few minutes of intellectual curiosity.


Sentir auto-destructivo.
Violentar la aniquilación.
Dejarlo todo creado.