Spaceship

I think of you. Every time. I've already counted. That's not news, not for me, neither for you. It's a recurrent thought in my mind, and it's a bright part of my day. But have you thought how I do that? I will tell you how it's always in confusing terms. And don't misunderstand me, it's not confession or confusion about my feelings. It is sometimes that thinking of you is like a typo. I think on reverse all time. And all is mixed in my head. The simple construction of you can be mixed. You can be yuo. And trying to correct it can also be a miscake. The one you eat but also the one you fail. Thinking about your heart could bring me to the earth. Can blow me away from the head, can bring me just to death. Same letter or sound combination, an entirely new frontier. For my feelings, There are no borders. Except when it is broader. And there's no limit when you are timid. Long enough to write and make some order. Because if you think

You should be poetry, the most epic poem of all times. Your metric should be the light of your eyes. Your rhyming should be the beats of your heart. You should be poetry in every breath, Should be poetry in every second. You should be the heritage of all the words together. You should be poetry of beauty, The most perfect poetry of delicacy. You should be poetry of inexplicable feelings, You should be the poetry of immense flavours. You should be the poetry of courage, the poetry of passion and temper. You should be the poetry of strength, The verses of the epic fight for living. You should be the poetry of delicacy The most prohibited verse should describe your beauty. The most ineffable words should describe your hips. In your lips live the music of the poem,  and in the softness of your hands live the chants of harmonious paradise. You should be the poetry of inexplicable words, You should be the endless inspiration of brightness. The world has transformed you in poetry. The life c

When I know you read, I smile. Because I know you read. When I know you read, I think about you Because I know you read. When I know you read I see your pictures, I miss your smile. When I know you read, I want you to come, I need you back. When I know you read, I ask what you think if you like. When I know you read I think how much of you do I like. When I know you read I'm not sure if it's you. When I know you read I do ask, is it you?  It's my wish come true

There's dust that fly 10 thousand kilometres,  there's another one that stays under your bed.  There's dust that never leaves the room.  There's dust next to the death, there's dust with blood.  There's dust in the oversights but there's dust in self-neglecting.  There's dust in the miserable corners of life. There's dust in the unplayable instruments.  There's dust before falling in pieces.  There's dust in the silence and there's dust in the forgetfulness.  There's dust in everything that's about to die.  There's dust in the broken hearts,  there's dust in the grief,  there's dust in the sadness.  Because it's what dust is made of. It is just sadness. 

The earthquake broke my heart. It was just on the right side, where my pride for my city lives.  The place I love, I lived, and I miss. It is broken for being far away, for not being there to help. To move the dust, to cooperate in something. My heart is broken because I want to hug my family and friends, organise something and be there. My heart is broken for seeing the misery in the disaster and the pillage in the chaos. My heart is broken because coming back won't be the same, some buildings won't be there, and the dust will be in the heart of everyone. The grief will be shared but not lived. My heart is broken because of the injustice for the children in the school and the thousands of stories under the rubble. My heart is, however, full of hope. The generosity is as immense as the size of the city. The pride for the people helping, the donations, all the aid for the unknown, and the possibility to sing, above all to sing. Canta México, canta y no llores. 

Nos vamos haciendo viejos,  Nos vamos haciendo feos. Por más que cuidemos del cuerpo. Nos vamos haciendo así. Convertirse en algo feo nos acerca a nosotros mismos. Nos deforma un poco la frente, Nos saca pelos en todas partes, Nos muestra las huellas de los accidentes. No obstante, vamos ganando otros lujos,  Vamos haciendo otras gracias. Aprendemos a llorar o a reír, pero nos vamos haciendo feos. Encontramos en nuestras manos el tiempo. Pasan por nuestra frente las huellas de nuestros pensamientos. Nuestros ojos ven más nublado que antes,  Nuestra alma aprecia más el sol. He visto el pasar del tiempo en tanta gente Todo mundo se va haciendo feo. Todo mundo adquiere un matiz distinto,  No necesariamente algo mejor. El chiste es envejecer con gracia?  Creo que no es así.  La gracia nos quita lo feos, seguro.  Pero la gracia nos hace dejar de ver.  Hemos de perder el sentido de la vista con el tiempo  Hemos de ganar otros 20 sentidos más.

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 and there,  it was a new thing to try.  It was her hand a frequent visitor of her breast,  it was the lips

The world is stained, we've made like that. We stain things all the time, our clothes are stained in regular ways, and we build things for specifically staining. We've found patterns for staining! Squared or horizontal or vertical or diamond shaped. Even the no pattern stains have a pattern. We stain in natural or complicated ways. We combine them to create other stains!!! We know yellow and blue stains get green and blue and red stains are purple. We take instruments to stain from nature, or we made ourselves. We produce materials to be easily stained, and we had the great ideas of making other ones that are stainless!!! We make stains over the old ones. We "renovate" or entirely transform the stain, and stains with lights and shadows are secured in the most famous museums in the world. We've made a science of staining, and we attribute mental powers to the ways or patterns we stain. If you get more orange, you get more hungry, if it is bluer there's more pe

One day I will see you one day I will talk to you again one day I will not be shy, I promise. One day I will tell you all the curiosity I have about you. One day I will ask you about your past. One day I will sing for you, just Mexican songs, just in Spanish. One day I will play the piano again. One day I will invite you a coffee just to see your eyes, to enjoy your face. One day I will cook something delicious. One day I will surprise you with one never ending story. One day I will make you cry. One day I will drive you to the mountains. One day I will feel your heart. One day you will be my autumn. One day I will make you smile. One day I will find you. One day I will meet you. One day in the morning and then never again.

Disappear, evaporate. You gotta go because it's in my best interest, to my mental health.  The dog you won should go away from my bed. I confess it's sleeping all nights next to me because I feel safe. Your pictures of perfection should be burned, no more astonishing descriptions, your poetry should hide. Your secrets will be mine, your confessions don't matter anymore. The blindness will help me with the blondness, and all the other things I remember about you will dissipate.  My memories of your skin will be the hardest part. Touching perfection is a lifetime experience. The captivating eyes should look in another way. I always had reserves about the way you look, but your clear eyes will always inspire me tenderness. The worst will be your words. The ones I always wanted to believe as honest. They should go too. It's a joke from now. We lost the most valuable thing between us, sincerity. We could think different or be totally opposite, but we were si