Double sided

I am the broken mirror

the lost voice machine

the dead VCR

the deleted photo

I am everything that sounds like fog and never identifies

I am those tree roots that get tangled and complicated

And no one can define

I am the lies that your hands can hold

the dead truths at your feet

the blood that falls at midnight

the pains that you bite between sutured lips

I'm the reaching out to stop the devil's drool

I am those cobwebs that break with distracted hands

I'm my smiles marked by fangs as corner snaps

the looking to the side

the inventing of languages

and the stuttering in everything you know

I am the first name that lied to me

I am who they call me but I won’t respond

I am death looking for the forgotten.

TA.

The return

It comes with a tun tun

With a patter that sounds like a tired old man

Comes with the dragging of chains

Like a ghost from past parties.

Comes with my fingers stretching my lips

And learning to smile even through the damage.

It comes with that I wonder if anyone hears the echo and frowns at so much effort.

I know I should set it free

Open the door of the cage and as a motherless pigeon teach it about free flight

But

They are mine

My reflections

My acquaintances

The color of my eyes

The scent of my blood

The taste of my feelings

It comes with the knowledge that this is a circus.

That is what I have created from what I have been taught.

It comes with the memory of an abandoned child.

It comes with being a malnourished mode, one that erases and eliminates all possibility of being human.

It comes as if it was never gone

TA.

Tango

Exhausted that everything is in pairs

That love comes with commitments

And help comes with expectations

Everything is a coming and going that leaves you stained in the hands of those who grab you.

It’s tiring to always have to fall back on the same doctrines that 1 + 1 = salvation

That what is needed in the world is a pair that saves them from the sins that weigh on your shoulders.

Exhausted from having to go with that Atlas is singular

That death is done alone

That life starts alone

That the middle is a nuisance to deceive us from the oppressive loneliness

It is annoying how everything you see is a solution where they are caught at the will of another.

In a dependent relationship that leaves you with the emergency number memorized

And it is tiring to go with the explanation that not everything is a shared dance.

Not everything is tango and seesaw

That there is, although it sounds so strange, a loneliness that does not come wrong, that there is a -1 that is worth nothing but is better than continuing with waiting for help to arrive.

May salvation not be eyes that ignore you and only build you to their ideals.

It is exhausting that throughout life what is forced on us is that without another we are a currency without exchange value

TA.

The madness of the pathetic

For you, there is only one writing

there is a circle that has been burned to my insides

my favourite wound

one of the sleeves rolled up

purple lips

lost eyes

and fingers memorizing the last brush of your hands on my skin.

It's dementia

but you were an obsession and for you, there is a round trip

that leaves me thirsty, begging, lost, searching and desperate

because for you I am repeating the same phrases as my body is the ghost of us,

my eyes don't forget the existence of your body

3 steps from me

2 breaths from me

1 kiss from me

and it's madness who knocks my dreams

when I don't remember how to sleep without you

you are my favourite delusion that I remember as stubborn with red

and my memory can jump ship but the fingers still move with a trembling

in Greek,

in death,

your name like a prayer that doesn't get lost

for you, I only have to insist on my poems

that keeps you in the step of close

of the infinity 

of the pathetic

of the need of you in me

TA.

The want

I want to incite the animal in you

I want you to burn the ground where I commit crimes

I want to unleash the basic in your bones

I want you to burn out for me

and I know that is the selfishness of love talking

but, you see, I am of the dark romantics

nobody taught me

I was of kick and punches

and my way is macabre that drives the one that cross my path crazy

and the priest speak in Latin to me

I want you to lose yourself in my dementia

I want you to harass me like stars to the moon

I want you to hold me in your arms and not give me escape

I want that when you say you love me to be the echo of my feelings

I want that when the world mentions us as they refer to one person

(one heart divided in two)

I want everything that makes up your molecules to combust because you miss a smile, a blink a breath, a word,

to curse whoever you have at hand because you must know if what drowns me is your presence. 

I want you

I want you

I want you

to love me with the stalking of death

to leave me with the impossibility of an act to follow you

TA.

The doubts of the writer

I doubt

I doubt

I doubt

to be good

to be able

to have the courage

to expose my column

and let the world play with it

I doubt

to let a map be created of my veins

that my language can be taught

even though I do it basic enough to jump the rope with it

I doubt

that I can carry on as I fear that the world traps what I say when my fingers get lost in the keyboard

and my lips read as if they had shot the start.

I doubt 

that I should continue with this massacre that is

evil to me

to you

and everyone

Because the Gods haven’t blessed me

I don’t have anyone telling me I have greatness in me

I don’t have the spirit to break

to expose me to a broken mirror

and glasses in the gallery

so the universe knows what disaster is the life that I try to practice in a language that a  child of five talks with an adult

I doubt

I can get far

to standing ovations

to speeches

to lovers

to torments

that makes my eyes cloudy with tears

of celebration

of joy

of victory

I doubt that what I dream can become a reality

when the word that I write comes with a shake as a signature.

TA. 

Bleach

Forgetting you came with bleach

with my hands without fingerprints

the clothes in the fort-block bin

the fake passport

and the change of number.

Erasing you came in the colour of the rainbow,

that I flip the coin and guiding me with a broken compass

I left with broken bottles,

red eyes,

crooked teeth

and broken heart

I got desperate because your ghost has an echo

I disappeared in the presence of everyone

running through our corners with smiles choked on tears,

I left with the laces untied, burned photos, the desire to still know you

I hit my head against the walls, I fell down the stairs, I gave myself an OD because forgetting you was taking,

my name

my reflection

my love

and I was dying with every cleanse

The amnesia of you was burning my country

burning bridges

cutting my hair

sewing my lips

walking without running

to end at your feet to beg you to please please please please let me go without your ties that drown me to return to you.

TA.