talking

I would talk to you, but you never seem  

to want to. 

I would contradict you

but maybe only to make it fun,

and I would seize it with a smile. 

Nothing seems to be normal anymore. 

undomesticated thoughts

a train that never stops

my thoughts that run away like an wild horse 

no way to keep them near 

no way to domesticate them 

discipline I am told it is the way,

for my actions, 

not for my thoughts. 

my thoughts run to you, still. 

rayo de luz

mi pequeno rayo del sol 

que me sonria cada mañana 

y que me dice con su carita llena de luz

aun hoy te amo mas

mama. 

mi pequeno rayo de luz que me hace ser cada dia sin mascas, sin pecados y sin regretos. 

mi pequenito rayo del amor de madre que me da coraje para ser un poco mejor, cada dia. 

distilled imagination

distilled imagination like an whiskey packed in a tetratop box 

living inside for too long

forgeting about the important things

to be fully present in day to day

distilled imagination that needs pouring in writings that will never change the status quo 

and maybe it never should. 

patterns

Colored patterns the aztecs left

my mind when they started to build 

a space of solitude and of pray. 

deep cooked feelings

feelings that will deep dive in a frying pan and at one point will disappear.

feelings that I don't regret, but that give me that uncertainty, that specific uncertainty not for what I know, or who I am, but for what is linked with you. 

feelings that at one point will most probably dissappear under the ashes of desire.

feelings that mostdays I have trouble with accepting and owning 

feelings that one day will be a mark left inside, part of that transformation of my soul to a new phase of existence. 

feelings I renounce almost every day, but they don't leave me. 

feelings that will leave me when it is time, maybe without sensing at first, but slowly.

 

feelings slowly cooked in a pan of curiosity and of desire

batista

O batista care sa stearga toate formele, toate preturile, toate etichetele si toate starile.  O batista care sa impinga toate evantaiele din lume catre centrul pamantului unde gandurile mele alearga care incotro, cu o revolta, cu o senzatie de lipsa catre un vulcan miscator.