lunes, diciembre 24, 2018


The man who cried love


Once upon a time there was a man gifted with the innocence of a child.
His gift allowed him to feel the purest love of all, a lifetime of learning and discovering the world with his beloved.
But the kid was curious, and one day he yearned for more... for the unknown, for a piece of the world for himself, on his own. But she did not understand, she felt she was not enough. Out of spite she left him alone, the man and the child. That was the first time the man cried as the child inside started to die.

The man needed to forget, so he followed the feelings of his nature. He felt sporadic doses of love and many more of pleasure... it was not enough. And the child witnessed it all...

The time to come back arrived, and he did not know any other home but that next to her love. He foolishly carried himself to her arms; she took delight in his loneliness... there he was, back where he belonged. The paths were connected again, without bifurcations... looking forward, never backwards, nothing had changed, had they forgotten?

But again, the child woke up the man... he wanted to see what was ahead, where his eyes could not reach, where the path did not go... far from predestined... from the expected. So he started to walk while holding her hand, “I’m showing you more” he said. She did not believe, not understood... once again, she was not enough to make him stay... she walked away and left them alone.

The man and the child stood still, they did not move, they didn’t know why.
They wanted to run, to make her come back; they wanted her to leave, to feel themselves free.
But they could not move, they did not want, they didn’t know how...

This time the man did not cry.
His heart stopped feeling, the kid stopped wanting...
The man wondered if he has been selfish; the child asked himself if he has been wrong.
The appearance of doubts gave rise to frustration, lack of decision, fearing the uncertain.
The eyes of each other were claiming reproach.

The man accused himself for the choices he made.
These choices became mistakes, the mistakes began to weight.
His love turned into hate, hate into blame...

He did no longer believe love could exist
Feelings of mistrust derived into lies
Desire of punishment, the idea of revenge
Love turned into lust, women into cunts
He used them as a mean to forget his loneliness
Spreading his guilt with every ejection of content
Every drop of his cum poisoned their hearts
Addictive as a drug, they always came back

The man was dishonest, he was not gifted, he was not innocent
He chased in the night the voice of the child.
He could not hear, he could not feel it.
For the last time the man cried, as he realised that in his arms the child had died.

jueves, enero 25, 2018

Por un género perdido

No me humilles, no seas condescendiente, no me victimices
Si me atacas me defiendo, si me gritas te respondo, si me tiras me levanto
Soy un héroe que combate los monstruos que la sociedad crea
La personificación de la igualdad de sexualidad confundida
Soy la generalización en un mundo cínico
De falda corta y tacones altos
De deseos que un hombre no puede contener
De prejuicios que la mujer expresa por sus miedos
Menospreciáis la fuerza con la que derribé los muros
Incitáis a que el recuerdo aterrorice a nuestros aliados
Miremos hacia atrás para saber dónde vamos
No para culparles de su ignorancia
Se acabó el tiempo de reproches
Somos lo que juntos fundemos
Somos extraños mientras no nos entendamos
No somos nada sin ellos, ni ellos nada sin nosotras
Diferentes al nacer, iguales al perecer
Resonando en vida por una género perdida