I ask for understanding

I apologize in advanced

I was born in the generation of the idiots, where they expect me to save the death they brought me, that is bathed in defeat. 

But, please, I can't with the people who play the monkeys, I don't have the mentality and patience to explain the reason for why I'm fighting. 

They have led me to the exhaustion and exasperation of believing that there is no salvation as we are stupid in the way that we don't grow and learn.
Let's accept that we are destined to repeat the past as is easier with the movement of this world, which leaves me on my knees, so this is enough, I am dejected. 
You have defeated me, with my shaking arms and without hope. My heart is torn and my ribs are breaking under the pressure of what you say to understand without even listening to what I have to say. You're spitting nonsenses that don't make a concrete idea that could help me to understand the actions that lead you to leave us this excuse of land to protect.
I ask for mercy
I know I shouldn't be spitting on my country and cursing what I'll defend until my dying breath. But my back has run out of space, my soul is broken, my spine has been stolen and I have tears on my shirt. I don't have the strength to stand before this ideology where the blind should guide us. I can't accept the return of the same people that built the hump on this land and I can less respect those who told me to bow my head before the shadow that doesn't reach my heels. 
I grew by punches and kicks, even though this silence of dementia is leading me to understand that we are in a maze. We are not the iceberg and the ship, we are the bomb and it is our own fault.
It's that I'm left with the hollow laughter and the deception that this is my destiny. My future is built by the same imbeciles that bring me the pen and paper waiting for me to embellish the events that are happening, however, no. This lack of neurones, this tearing in our fight for rights and freedom has taken me to say that they have broken my spirit and beliefs.

TA.

The small letter

I had recovered pieces of my being, I was learning to say my name without breaking it into branches. It was getting easier for me to lay down under the sun without the wait of eight minutes, I was getting better. 

It was easy for me to deal with my closed throat and I had learned numbers beyond the billion and I could breathe. I knew about sleeping when the brain stumbled to bed and I was evolving against all bets. I was learning. 

I could talk, exist and breath without having any wound from you. I was succeeding in making a life out of death and we were walking different lanes. 

So you had to have the need to talk to me, of putting your numbers in front of my eyes and make me remember. You had to put a definition to the sounds and create calm from the chaos that I was ruling. It was your last play, the one I was thinking about yet wishing to a God of multiple faces for a no and a yes. 

Because let's admit that I was in the middle. You had to be the nine sin, the temptation that had to come when I was thinking less about bodies and more about the acid in my teeth. I was growing in no giving my heart to every broken clock and thinking that there was the possibility of building an empire out of concrete, and that wasn't in your plans. 

It was a promise that was in small letter in every love of mine. For them to build a ghost of their bonds in me, which would be each hidden door and nightmares of the afternoon.

TA.

Free of guilt

I’m easy, I get it

I am a crossword puzzle, bread and cheese,

I understand they gave you a manual and you read  it,

it's alright.

The problem is that you hurt me, you damaged me in the annexes and left me bleeding with a burning in my fingertips. You left without an echo, throwing me in a corner because it was simple and comfortable. 

Its perfect,

It was first love and broken heart,

the books with the music had written about how to treat me and you had the alcohol at hand. Is that there wasn’t a guilt that haunted you so it was accessible, it's great, there is no verdict. 

You left me mutilated and with fewer lives than I had, I had the vocals of your name, the red tea and the marked ribs. You left while I was loving you and accepting friendship, you left me with my rotten roots and growling, and every book took you here. 

As every novel told me to unfold in front of you and to let you,

be my owner and then thief,

that this was love.

Is because of that that you are not guilty, it wasn’t that you were a young person of healthy mind and twenty years of independence, it was that for you there was forgiveness and excuses.

I ended up empty and broken, export to infections and every pain you searched for. I wasn’t useful and with love, because you left with was left of me to hope and wish, you robbed my expectations and strength. Disappearing without giving me a chance at closure. It's your right.

I’m broken, I don’t cry too much but I feel like the eruption of a volcano and I love you with a passion that rivals the sun even though is difficult for me to have your hands on me and my expectation of life are low. I am a being with complications and is in your freedom to pack your bags and go.

It was easy,

It was to rewind the VHS,

sticky smiles and exposed smile,

it was what you had read and hoped for,

it wasn’t your fault that everything was a trick

you aren’t guilty of thinking of knowing the darkness in the ocean,

you weren’t the saviour we both hope for.

It's alright, it wasn’t what you hoped for.

TA.

The agony in wanting

I'm having the anxious wish of being three stations from your neighbourhood,

to get off so I can climb the stairs to your roof,

To hit my fingers against the green leaves, 

and have the open jacket, to collide against the cold wind.

Is a wish that burns in the entrails of my heart, 

I need to be ten blocks from where you can walk blindfolded, 

to believe in the possibility of seeing you on a cheating day,

with the green jacket, the perfect and malicious smirk, two lighters of opposite colours and football in your lips.

This sin is eating my dreams up and I need to be 

visiting the confines of your hood, 

hoping you have more than thirty friends 

and that we met by chance in the kiosk,

for your cigarettes to be of share, 

for your walk to be slow and lonely 

and for me, to get lost enough for you to grab my hand. 

TA. 

The child

That someone else sees her dance, is your nightmare. You see her with her eyes closed, her arms in the air, hips from left to right and those pure lips smiling. Is what you fear when you close your eyes, that one day she closes doors and falls in love with another, and that your eyes just can't shine because of clumsy arms and bouncing feet. It scares you so much that you don't usually sleep, and you are erasing before sending a message because you're still a child and you can't accept mistakes and find yourself halfway. Yet you fear her free body and her naked soul before someone other than you.

TA.

The errors

In the desperation to forget you, I started to burn, drinking from the bottle and smoking to death, I was in painted spirals and losing the bets.

I don't really know if I was looking for sympathy or doom, but I did silence the sound of your voice and the colours of your eyes. It was easy to exist in a world where my language didn't know about the work of your name. It was getting exhausting, I defeated myself in the situations of living by the pain of forgetting you.

I didn't think much about the consequences, writing with the left hand and suspicious lips, I had become a prediction. And I did it because I didn't have the way to survive the rupture of my arteries with the silence of my heartbeat. So I fell, bit and understood.

TA.

The union in death

I believe that death will separate us to unite and it'll be fine for us to fall in love with another while we promise to find ourselves behind the veil. And let the scales judge our hearts that crave to be tied up in our error once more, and I am confident that I would wager all my money on roulette and horses that we will meet at a promise from the River Styx. And we will be fine with the betrayals and the lips of strangers, take the boat and I the plane.

Let us lose ourselves in time and land, let the map burn, that we will have the promise of the pomegranate seeds so that we are eternal in the hidden of the deep to be able to fulfil the expectations of a love of poisons in the thorns. And I'll let us lose ourselves in the arms of the sun and foggy minds, as long as I have you as a partner in the boats to the eternity of our last chance.

TA.

The last time

It was summer, it was in a bar, it was your birthday so it was October. We were twenty and we were difficult to define, I had bought you something and my arms were burning. You were to the left of my right and we didn't speak (or I don't remember what we said).

I had a smile and this ba da bump to see you when I was going blind. You had black hair and green eyes, you were using the cell phone and you weren't smiling. I was nervous, I had the need to tell you about my day and tell you how I was feeling, I had a galaxy to talk to you about. I was anxious to break free before you.

You had this tic in your leg and you watched the people walk around us, I saw you move in the chair and look at me as we were accomplices and I thought: "This, I want this forever and ever"

I remember thinking that this was what my mother talk about when she explained love to me. And I was accepting that loving you was letting you be happy even though it hurt and I had my fingers bent because I was happy to have you even on my side. You had your old white shirt and you were eating, as always, and I had the cell phone turned off because I wanted to talk to you.

The sun was coming through the window on my back and I swear it was a second, a second to look back and see the clouds, a second to get mad about something you said and throw a tantrum like a child, a second to watch the burning of my eyes and eyelids, and I extend my gift but you weren't there.

You had gone with a friend, someone, something, you cared more than me and my desire for us to last.

TA.

3.30 AM

I don’t remember the colour of your eyes if you had freckles or hair. I don’t have the memory to be able to chant your name among the ghosts. I kept burying you until I lost you, and you became a feather falling into the empty room, and I haven't decided if I want to dig up your sarcophagus with blood and nails.

Nor I’m accepting that your wounds came with a warning that would be leaving me defeated by different corners, I won’t be available to accept that there was reason in the burning of your words and letters. 

It's that I'm crying at three-thirty every day because God I don't remember your smile, I don't know your name, I don't know how we met and God I'm drowning, I'm dying. Because not you, I was never willing to lose you. You were my eternal and my love. Yet, I buried you, I left you flowers and I left in a zig-zag to never see you again.

But ... the unfortunate thing is that I want. I want to know the taste of your smile on my neck, the way you called me silly and our good night. I want every rose petal with thorns returned, I want to have you in my arms one last time. However, in the spill of my pain, I was losing you and yielding to my forgetfulness.

TA.