Pause... don't stop.

Mood: Okay
Book: YPA
Music: Maligno - Aterciopelados

Pausing is art, knowing how to pause is art...

we don't know how to stop...

                                             do we?

                                             mundane needs!

We can start telling our stories backwards,

see if they unwrite themselves from our memories...

see if they can be rewritten...

because we didn't pause... we didn't know how to stop...

Halfway, the feeling overwhelms the soul with fire,

it burns it to the marrow... asphyxiating the hurricanes inside,

from the guts, we can feel it crawling out of our minds,

we didn't pause... we didn't know how to stop...

We wanted to pause,

not to stop...

Pause for a moment...

to listen to the birds' song...

                             to breathe the greens,

                             to drink the darkness from the blues...

                             to train our hearts,

                             and to write better stories,

                                                                  without using our words to hurt,

                                                                  but as a home,

                                                                                         where our souls could find a warm shelter...

but we couldn't pause...

                               we didn't know how to stop...

((Sitting... waiting))

Mood: anxious
Book: ESP A learning centred approach
Music: Placebo



Grasping for air while your words etch my soul,
Carving it deep with the musts and shoulds as well as the don'ts
I've seen it collide to my despair
as everything suddenly fades...
I have felt it as I've clung to your breath...
I've been feeling down prior to this,
little chances of survival that's what I see,
see and know...
My regret and guilt won't let me be,
won't free me from captivity,
they won't release me as I wish they would,
all this pain is an illusion,
and even though I don't share many things with the proles,
I am... still... part of it all.
I would like to cleanse myself,
                                             but I can't.

I am nobody...

Mood: downsome
Book: niente
Music: The seatbelts

In a little while, you’ll be gone.
And the space that has been born between us I cannot seem to fill with anything.
We grow apart as we breathe and the more I wish to get closer, the farther I find myself.
I apply little to what I want, to what I wish to do,
The mara has grabbed herself tightly around my soul,
perhaps little salvation for my hopes although I thought I had none.
I am a slave of my own ambivalence,
A domesticated prisoner of my many and harshest guilts.
I am not rejecting anything but it seems like it,
I’ve been drifting away since day one,
My priorities are messed up,
What I want I cannot have,
I am my worst enemy, and I retreat because I am a coward.
A chicken shit with a little will, distracted by the dirtbags that I so claim to dislike.
Duties from all and paced deeds.
I am nobody,
Undeserving...
The void sucks dry my blurry vision, I cannot see the path anymore.
And even though I know I am not alone,
I know I walk alone under this dimmed light.
Nobody scrutinises my every move more than I do.
The world is a creeper...
She asked me if I would like to be a saint,
What an odd thing to ask someone who barely believes.
Thus I am a God’s forsaken child...
He said this is only a dream, and now it is time to wake up...
He said that all this pain is an illusion...

Like a drop

Mood: sad
Book: tales of power
Music: Adanowsky

In a moment of silence, I can hear the murmur
the wind striking the solitude of a loud thought
and it breaks like a drop hitting on the floor
etching the silhouette of an empty metaphor...

I sublimate what it is with what it should become,
and the attempts become shallow,
I cannot escape, crashing hopes and fake smiles
we start to fade away with the morning dew...

Out of body sensation, off my senses,
I am becoming a specter of my own ambivalence...
numb at moments,
I cannot make sense out of anything...

the drop's etch remains...

((Prowling))

Mood: hopeless 
Book: tales of power
Music: siempre me quedará 


Stealthily it approaches and catches me off-guard..
It devours my soul,
It prowls the hells
                              Where I shelter my pain...

I feel weak,
          I believe I will not make it!

My body aches,
                         The feeling is too deep that...
                          It sunders the marrow... 

dauntless...

Mood: empty...
Book: Tales of Power
Music: Kissing a fool



With dauntless persistence, I hear the heartbeat,
beating for you and for what I miss,
I am not as strong as I like to think,
and here I sit behind this stupid bliss...

A delusional bliss for you're not here,
you're not near,
and I lie to survive the day,
it was a good moment, sublimating my loneliness...

My vile loneliness,
I couldn't do what I set myself to do,
I guess I will start again,
I ache, but sublimating makes me dauntless...

I sang to you, to this thought of you,
and found myself sitting alone for hours,
avoiding the whole world,
keeping my eyes busy and the mind,
                                              well... you dwell there.

[despair... takes many forms]

The day...

Mood: If you felt joy, counts as a success... (it says)
Book: ESP
Music: Garbage

The world is mad, trivialities in life get us stressed out,
and we may try to run away from them, but we cannot hide,
we must abide, and comply, we cannot resign,
such is life...

I can sugarcoat the feeling of distress,
but they are killing me, I must confess...

And I pray hard with all my heart, and continuously in order to find peace of mind,
but there is no peace that can calm my ache.

The news talk about the world collapsing,
some disease,
migration by fists,
no money,
possible wars...

And I cannot talk about it, it makes no sense,
no sense at all...

And in a little while, I should be gone,
and while I remain, I cannot talk,
because of misinterpretation
because it is all in my head
because of some weird favouritisms
and then I become an empty shell...

I can run perhaps,
but this will not last,
I cannot abide, I may try...
and yet successfully I fail...

The ordeal...

Mood: sad
Book: misunderstandings about teaching young learners...
Music: Garbage


The ordeal to keep me still,
with nothing to lose or win,
just standing still, will you find me in my darkness?
or should I come out from under the rock I hide in blueness?

This is my broken abyss,
where not even tears show up,
the void is too deep to climb up out of it,
I'm sucked in right to the eyes...

I don't know how to surrender to this,
it was a hard start,
a gloom-some beginning of the year,
the loss just increases more loss and no peace.

I wasn't running away,
and my soul was not on fire,
I was just standing still...
under a thin veneer.

and the soil shook beneath my core
and I fell from grace, my love,
I ignore what I should do or should have done,
the void is just so deep to climb up out of the abyss,
I'm sucked in, right to the bone...

Words from the 6 pt 3

Mood: Melancholic
Book: 1984 - Orwell
Music: Faith and the Muse - Chorus of the Furies



Amarte fue el evento más efímero
que se creó bajo capas de calor
una tras otra protegían el olvido
en el intento de preservar entera una torcida realidad...

Me permito reflexionar en lo mundano del ser
la estupidez constante de prueba y error,
evitar dañar con cada acción por cometer,
seguir caminando sin que invada el temor.

Lejos me encuentro del silencio,
en el retiro, forzando mi pensar,
ya no anhelo algo bajo este cielo,
ni siquiera dominar la mente, quizá sólo mutar.

Murmullos audibles rodeando este infierno,
consumen las llamas a esta oscuridad,
no hay reflejos en estos movimientos
me estrello en intentos por de aquí, escapar...

Ya casi estoy sin alegrías, sin sonrisas,
vacía de todo... silencio es lo que hay,
ha sido extenuante no cumplir lo prometido...
la vida se ha tornado en un hoyo por llenar...
¡Cuánta ironía, ni siquiera está vacío!

De rabia me enfermas fingiendo ignorar
el sistema se aferra al control viceral
comienzas la guerra, pretendes curar
te ladro con fuerza, pero no te consigo alejar...

Enferma me tienes sin claro motivo,
al borde me quieres sin necesidad
gritando me entiendes, sin falla de oído...
ideas sin sentido que penden de hilos.

Aversión a tus actos más evitando el odio,
el sentir dejó de ser cristal puro...
años varios han precedido
al frecuente viajero que busca caminos...

Ya no sabemos que pretendemos alcanzar...

Me transporto entre relojes
dentro de gritos llenos de reproches,
incapaz de cambiar tanto rebote...
sigo en este viaje, sin gran emoción.

Sin nido

Mood: Curious
Book: 1984 - Orwell
Music: Pitch Perfect 3

Era una mañana fría y sin sol,
respirar congelaba las fosas nasales,
caminó como siempre, con tanta pasión,
emocionado estaba, desesperado por verle.

Deambuló por pasillos sin luz ni color,
quería correr pero había mucha gente,
saludó a su encuentro aunque sin emoción,
a todos aquellos sin quehacer aparente.

-¡Diez pasos más, sólo diez para verte!

Mil y una emoción invadieron,
los nervios llegaron por obvia razón,
se detuvo isofacto, se aceleró el corazón,
la puerta mutaba, dejaba al momento sin muerte,
y en la eterna distancia de su cuerpo a la puerta,
en cámara lenta realizó toda acción.

Las piernas flaqueaban, apretaba los dientes,
respiraciones cortadas, suplicio creciente,
está a poca distancia, él lo sabe, más no entiende,
el porque no hace nada..
¿por qué no abre su mano y la extiende?

Cuestión de agallas, de  valor, de ser fuerte,
pero inmóvil quedó frente a la delgada barrera
del futuro y presente...

El cielo oscureció, suministró lluvias y un aire tenue,
lo envolvió el desconcierto y regresó en sus pasos,
alejándose,
transparente...

Las gotas grisáceas lavaban su sentir,
no deseaba pensar,
con la lluvia se quería fundir...

Caminó sin reparos, iba tan aprisa, casi corriendo,
su alma entera no razonaba, parecía que huía  de la más temible fiera.

Escapó del lugar donde se encontraba la razón de existir,
huyó sin pensar, sin despedirse... sin discernir.

Cada paso que da, ve hundirse, ve morir...
a su taciturna y locuaz motivación por seguir.

Infelicidad sólo hay por no intentar llegar a ella,
la dejó seguir sin el,
permitió que volara, que extendiera sus alas...

Y de su nido se fue,
ahora él, no quiere vivir en el.

full of myself // The fight versus EGO!

Mood: proud
Book: enseñanza de Buda
Music: Dj Vo!D ( NiceTry)

¡Qué ironía!
La soledad no es tan triste, ni vacía (Por allá del 98 o 99)

En tus silencios me pierdo (2015)

Sueño contigo... Huelo a tí?
No....
Huelo a mi... a pasado... (2015)


Tengo que buscar mis writings... no puedo creer que sólo tenga 3 frasesitas AWESOME ... o sea... cómo?!?!