the road

These streets are familiar to me, I've passed by them over and over and now they recognize me, they are even cordial enough to salute me and encourage me on my bad mornings. They're the footprints to monotonous days and pathways to infrastructures which I enter and exit, they're also my allies when I escape, they can keep to themselves where I am and where I'm going.
As I listen to music and look outside the window, I wonder what was there before and I observe what lies in its place instead. I observe the anomalies of the road, the bumps, the planes, the holes. I look at the sky and desire for the fuel to be infinite, to travel around coasts, and valleys and forests and just let it sink in me.
I count and count plants, animals, things, how many of each kind as I pass by but my calculations are far from accurate but I don't care, it makes time pass by pleasantly.
I like being oblivious of all the signs, turn right or left, stop, no more than x velocity, it means nothing to me. It is the labyrinth of my life and I'll see where it takes me, and if it's not the finish line, well then so be it.

I feel like crying.

Like letting everything I have inside follow its course in a river, flow away from me.
May whoever brought this upon me take it back, I don’t want it.

There’s a grudge that tightens by the minute, one that blocks my veins and avoids the blood to run through my body. It feels like there are scribbles all over me and in my interior, codes that I have to decipher, an infinite maze with no finish line, a puzzle with missing pieces.

Show me the way out of this, I declare myself humble and insufficient to withstand this that I’m going through so I plead for your help.

May you find me along your way and may you take some of your time to observe my wounds like a specialized doctor, although we both know you’re not, but let’s pretend just for a second because it does me good.

I’ve already tasted reality, and its bitter, bitter, ingredients. Oh, how I would love to savor sugar, glitter, magic, aureoles, the Milky Way Galaxy, all the constellations, like cascades descending through my mouth.
Show me somewhere else, another dimension because my auto-diagnostic is that I’m sick of seeing what’s around me. Let’s walk through the walls because we have no limits, no boundaries.

I feel like crying because I’m not free. Please tell me you have the keys to this cage.

this fire is out of control.

Why is it? Why is it that I’m always so desperately searching? What am I searching for anyway? I look right at your eyes, inpatient for an answer, because I believe it’s you, something in me points right towards your direction but your eyes look so void; they repel me. They call out: “there is nothing here you’ll want” but I know there is, I know there is something you have to offer that I necessitate. I wish I could call you out on it, just stand in front of you and say: “be honest to yourself for a second and let me in” but I can’t. There are more than a hundred layers of brick walls between us and screaming does no good. Soon enough I will find a way of getting this message across, maybe in a bottle like a couple of centuries ago or just a paper airplane.

We can work our conditions out; make an agreement, a cost-benefit relationship. I need you, and I’m currently knocking at your door but if there is no answer, there is only so much I can wait. I can see from the tip of my eye that you’re glancing from the edge of the window, debating whether to allow me to come in or not. I believe you’re scared she might hear us, don’t be afraid because she is in the kitchen, making dinner and putting the table for two. I’m here, now, right at this moment and fuel is burning inside me and a fire is rapidly spreading across my whole body. Just say something.

.....sshhhhh.....

The larvae that turn into frogs, the frogs that turn into princes, the caterpillars that turn into butterflies, the babies that turn into old, crippled, human beings, all the species are in constant movement and change; there’s no security whatsoever in what you have or what you are now.

Some days I just desire a break: hours where the clock needle stops turning right, hours in which all of these parallel universes cease to exist. I don’t want to be conscious of time, or my loss of it. I don’t want to have to meet expectations all the time and having to read theories and philosophies on life as to apply them to my own and then when I’m older look back and say: “I did well”. It’s a constant weight that we carry in our shoulders, that of life. I’m not taking its merit of it being beautiful, I’ll give that to her (she’s definitely a girl, with all of her mood swings, ups and downs) but what we all have to admit, is that she’s tiresome.

Us human beings should be given a paralyzed world once a month, for an x amount of time, we should be brainwashed so that we are free of preoccupation and despair. Just do what we please without consequences, be given what we want without asking anything back, being able to stand on our own and not depend on others but wanting others to be part of our happiness, having to go nowhere but at the same time being everywhere, a span of time where pleasure and balance make love. And we shall remember that, and that break should be our force to go on, our periodic oasis.

escóndete. destápate.

Entonces están aquellos que esconden sus secretos de por vida, aquellos que les duele sincerarse y crean subterfugios para tapar sus confesiones.

El amor es claro, es evidente y cuando intentamos ocultarlo, se rebela y sale hasta por los poros de nuestra piel, no importa que; y así, enterándose aquellos de quienes temiamos una opinión contraria a nuestros sentimientos.

Mi intuición me dice que debo decirle, que no hay mejor manera de vivir que transparentándose uno mismo y viviendo como santos en túnicas blancas, libres de culpa.

Fuimos infieles, mentimos, fornicamos y que se hace ahora luego que el daño está hecho, la única respuesta que se me ocurre es tirar las cartas sobre la mesa, listos para perder porque sabemos que la mano de los demás es mejor, al menos esta vez.

Y luego vivir a partir de ahí, cambiar como personas para el mundo y caminar a partir de nuestra última huella y no borrarla como si nunca hubiesemos pisado allí.

Sonríeme.

La belleza de la sonrisa de quienes acompañan y forman parte de nuestro día ilumina la vida y reinvindican todas las peripecias, las bajas del juego de la afanada diversión.

Cuando una niña pequeña en la iglesia se da la vuelta y sonríe en tu dirección sin malicia alguna, cuando la señora mayor de edad que se sienta a tu lado en el autobús te sonríe buscando la calidez de la juventud, cuando el mayordomo más que por obligación, por el simple gusto de servir, te sonríe, en esos momentos el mundo deja de ser frío, se convierte en un lugar habitable y feliz. Quizás no con ponys, arcoiris, y unicornios como en los cuentos de hadas pero sí con los rayos de luz que destellan sobre los colores radiantes de una naturaleza viva, que aunque en decadencia, no se da por vencida porque es de esas sonrisas que se alimenta.