Ir al contenido principal

De cosas atoradas

Como lo más natural en este momento sería dejar de perder el tiempo, para no perder la costumbre voy a hacer lo más estúpido. Necesito escribir para aclarar mis pensamientos, para luego escribir sobre mis pensamientos claros (por lo menos esa es la intención). Digamos que además de perder el tiempo, también soy fanático de cargar piedritas en el zapato, el problema es cuando son tantas que sientes que tus zapatos son de piedra. Es entonces, en el puro afán de claridad, que me quiero quitar algunas que son particularmente molestas.

Como piedritas son horrores, como lo que pesa nos hace más lentos y como necesito vivir un poco mejor antes de que me encuentre un charco lo suficientemente grande para ahogarme, pues creo que me gustaría quitarme las que tienen que ver con mi personalidad. No sé si para alguien puedan servir como una atenta disculpa, pero si es así mejor aún. Soy inconstante, temeroso y bastante desconfiado (tenemos uno de tres ¿no?). No es que no haya encontrado gente maravillosa con la que sé que puedo contar, es más creo que debo un poco de confianza a un par, pero me cuesta muchísimo trabajo esperar algo de cualquier cosa. Lo que espero es lo que he trabajado y no puedo hacer más que eso…



Que siguen atoradas

Comentarios

Entradas populares de este blog

It was just another time

It was a moan, it was her breathing.  It was the end of innocence.  It was not only the curiosity of the time,  it was the hidden feeling behind.  It was just a kiss, why not?  It was just the fifth bottle of champagne.  The good times need the best liquor.  It was then just a try.  Just her hand in her hand,  it was just a witness surprised.  It was just a moment to stop,  it was just a time to look at the eyes.  It was then the next song,  it was a weird time.  It was another kiss in the eyes.  It was dancing together,  it was falling behind.  It was just another kiss, then another one. It was that electric feeling,  knowing that something is going to end bad.  It was just the delicacy of the moment,  it was just a time.  It was not passionate or wild,  it was curiosity and discovery chance.  It was touching here a...

Useless

I asked a poet to write about you, in the middle of London, next to the river. It was announced he could write anything on paper, at any rate, all the times I wanted. I told him who you were. I used my best words to describe your soft and shiny hair. I spoke about the darkness of those eyes, the strength living in their colour and the power they have to look. I tried to detail the delicacy of your nose and the softness of your lips. And I stopped there and came back in the sensations you were provoking. I had no words for the miracle of your smile. It was automatic; it should be there. I went down to your neck, soft and clean, always smelling like the sweetest perfume that makes me feel lost. Then your shoulders, then your hands then your breast. I got crazy of telling him about the miracles living in the waist and the storms you provoke in your hips. And then I went on. And then I couldn't stop. Your legs, the way you walk and the incredible sensations you were producing...

If you were another piece of words

I would be worried, sad, bitter.  If you were another piece of words.  I would be desperate in the middle of loneliness. Craziest paragraphs would be the centre of my anxiety. If you were another piece of words. I would build the perfect world in one line. Give it to you in a paper. I would find a thousand of ways of solving problems  Put each one next to your nice hair. If you were another piece of words I would not ask you to believe,  To take the risk of what you feel,  to embrace the  best moments of your life. I would be desperate finding the wrongs I would be crazy counting the lies. If you were another piece of words. I would test now my new theory,  Write you six stories, three arrangements, two rhymes. After the word line 76 you would begin to vanish. At the 100th line for sure you would be gone. If you were another piece of words, You could open a new post, Be the secret reason for someone to read Find a new lover or maybe ten,  I wouldn...