Wednesday, November 25, 2015


Each time I see you crossing the door, my soul  gets instantly linked to yours
I simply can't deny how my skin shivers just for knowing I'm going to be so lucky I'll be listening to you for some whole hours
How your lips softly move to make my mind unconfortable,
How your eyes dig in everyone's hearts just for the sake of seing further
You and I know you do all of this to protect your miserable heart from breaking or misleading it to the tough roads of love & grief
Tell me, who hurt you?
I bet nobody but Miss Life did it
Those lips moving run after me in my thoughts, my subconscious stresses the fuck out of me thinking about your coal tone black hair
Your brutal indifference caresses my tortured & hot heart

Bye bye mental wealth

In fact, I'd be grateful if life gave me the oportunity just to know you
Sink into the maze of your thoughts
See your lips wet with coffee as you drink it
Smell a mixture of you, cheese and red wine
Seeing a bonfire reflected in your pupils
Just for that, I would be so grateful
Simply taking the chance to absorbe knowledge from the world from you
But, well
I ain't no liar
I've seen you expressing passion
What if that passion was poured into me...?

Let it be

Friday, November 20, 2015

*borrowed from Berlin-Artparasites-

Meet me offline tonight, ‘cause a 73 x 73 thumbnail isn’t enough you. I want you in the highest resolution, in four dimensions, the only way I know how to look at something beautiful. You weren’t made for the screen you know, and neither was the broken skin where you cut yourself shaving and the almost-invisible hairs that paint the corners of your upper lip and that one crooked eyelash that bends at a 45-degree angle. Who was foolish enough to think they could squeeze everything noteworthy about you into an avatar? You’re too pretty for pixels.
Put up an away message and let’s go away, somewhere we can power down and still feel electric, somewhere that doesn’t need password protecting. Let’s lose ourselves and find ourselves in a place with no Yelp reviews, no Google results, no Foursquare check-ins. The distance between your eyes and mine is uncharted territory, that’s a good place to start. Let’s look there first.
Tonight, I want to push all of your buttons except the one that says Like. I want to eat too slowly and argue over Tim Burton’s best film and take your mother’s side; I want you to look at me like you want to strangle me or kiss me or both and maybe then I’ll undo a couple of your buttons or my buttons and how’s that for a notification? I want to be the one to alert you.
Sign off and log out and shut down so we can meet up and go out and get high on fingers touching fingers and tongues pressing tongues instead of fingers pressing buttons. What I want to give to you is too large to attach, what I want to give to you can’t be uploaded or emailed or right-click-saved. Meet me so that we can remember how to connect without a router and a modem and a satellite, do it so that we don’t forget.
Just unplug for a while, ‘cause I can’t download the space between your shoulder blades and I need your back in my hands to remember how bodies work. I want to relearn your skin with an open palm, not a single finger, you know what I mean? ‘Cause what I mean is I want to touch you, not Poke you; I want to like you, not Like you; I want to love you, not Heart you. I want to live in a place void of scare quotes, of capitalized letters that inject semantics, a place void of tonal ambiguity. I want to live in a place where the space between your back exists, where it’s wire-less and not wireless, a place where I can like you in lowercase. Let me like you.

- Stephanie Georgopulos

Monday, October 26, 2015


And I remember when I met him, it was so clear that
he was the only one for me.
We both knew it, right away.
And as the years went on, things got more difficult –
we were faced with more challenges.
I begged him to stay. Try to remember what
we had at the beginning. He was charismatic, magnetic,
electric and everybody knew it. When he walked in
every woman’s head turned, everyone stood up
to talk to him. He was like this hybrid, this mix of
a man who couldn’t contain himself.
I always got the sense that he became torn
between being a good person and
missing out on all of the opportunities that life could
offer a man as magnificent as him.
And in that way I understood him
and I loved him.
I loved him, I loved him, I loved him.
And I still love him.

Tuesday, April 21, 2015

Devoured Heart

Your overwhelming feeling of love, innocence, and obsession about her reminded me of the Old times.

Back then, I believed I could open up to someone and not be hurt. Back then, I was mean with every person who did not deserve it. I remember saying, " I need to get myself back". And every summer I did. Eventually I did. I can not get that back again. I've forgotten how to love in an innocent way, a pure, not poisoned way.
Someone already gave that to me and I just stepped on it. It is just something that had to happen. Fuck, I needed it! I needed to swallow love just to be able to give it to myself. I had lost it. But I never thought about the consequences. Some time after, I fell hopelessly in love, not only getting back what I had had, but making it the biggest, enormous and most amazing thing I had ever felt. But that person was already poisoned. He gave that to me, apart from a thousand kisses, deceptions, happy times and rage moments.
My dearest Man, you made me who I am today. The bittersweet character, not trusting anybody, the interest about the world and history so that I would never get hurt... or so I pretend.

You opened my heart with no hesitation, with your own fucking hands and teeth, and ate from it. You emptied it as if it was a fucking shell, do you see how you left it? You swallowed my hope and digested my emotions.
You filled it with poison and hidden rage. You made it melancholic and perverse.

It is true I hurt someone, some hearts, but mine had already been fucked up.
I don't blame you. Our story was doomed from the first time, but it could've been dreamy! Anyway, we fucked it up. It was not just once that you broke my heart. And it was not just one time that I deceived you. But the way you filled me with doubts... The way I craved your only presence, your smell, your touch. Seing your black hair and your pale skin. Just being able to listen to your voice.

All those nights the only way I could get to you was by doing what I hoped would satisfact you.
Maybe I was never enough? I swear I did everything. But OH, well, I learnt almost all lessons in life with you. Should I say thank you?

I felt myself falling to a non-ending pit a thousand times. But oh everytime you gave a minimum attention to me... I kept that like a treasure. I remember that little box inside my heart filled with the good moments. There was also a box for doubt moments -you know it would have exploded if our story would've been longer - even longer -, I remember revising them every day and every night and analyzing them in the Most exhaustive way. I would walk through every moment trying to read your heart. It was too dark to see anything there. Your inner animal pushed me away.

It has passed a lot of time now, I already even had my vendetta, not only with you but with myself, and with other little, innocent hearts.
I have changed now. But the masochism and the unbearable desire for toxicity is still there and pushes me to broken hearts like mine.

Anybody, by now, would think that I have a dark soul. But nobody would say that my feelings and emotions are, nowadays, the purest ones they have ever felt or seen. My heart might be broken and poisoned but its strenght and desire to fly make it kind, true and just.

I hope (sincerily) someday I will be loved. Man makes plans and God laughs, why do I even bother to ask?

Tuesday, February 17, 2015


The diamond paper I used to make my cigarettes from is gone.

The dip dip beat sound you carry with a flawless retrospectiveness, an unknown desire of knowledge patiently accomplished by years.

My darkness should never be shown to your persona, just in case the fear and loathing tear you down.

My hair flows through the wind like snails in the water, fluently, caressing the oxygen you breathe as if it was feeding that broken and baroque soul you have.

I have always had an intrinsical perception for lost & wild souls. Would I ever stop linking together my own soul to the world? My mind says yes, my heart says no.

I walk across the streets smiling; time weaved for me a beautiful and chameleonic shell. As time passes by, an astonishing effect started to attract people. They would stick to me in the disgusting way bees get trapped when flying too near from the honey. Can’t they see they sicken me?

The pure souls my tortured heart marks out are not enough.

The dark fantasies my body betrayed are not enough.

The thrusts my inside has suffered are not enough.

It is never enough.

The tears fall down like the chrysalis blooming in summer. Everything becomes grey, so does my love thirsty shading soul.

Thursday, January 29, 2015


Sabes que en esta vida sólo hay una persona para otra persona. Verano de mi vida, fuego de mis pulmones. Mira detrás de ti, antorchas iluminando tu rostro anguloso, tu pelo azabache, y ella allí como una chiquilla asustada preguntándose qué hacer para entrar en tu atmósfera de misterio. Un día después allí estaba, de tu mano, en esa playa de arena blanca y suave como algodón, mientras el sol se escondía tímido detrás del mar azul ópalo. Ni el sol ni ella llevaban bien tus miradas de grafito.

Fueron meses, años compartiendo vuestras identidades camaleónicas. Siempre brillantes, pero niños de la mala revolución, donde salir a beber y fumar era la única solución. Siempre os creísteis tener el mundo en vuestras manos, sacabais vuestras mil caras, erais todo lo que queríais ser en cuanto dejabais  la nebulosa de la vida común. Tú siempre fuiste una estrella en el teatro, creías que ella, tu muñeca, era tonta. Pero se vestía años 50, parecía un calendario pin up, se peinaba el bouffant, y conseguía los favores que tú siempre quisiste. Juntos fuisteis la mejor línea en la historia, Bonnie y Clyde, Cher y Bono, Kennedy y Jackie… Por supuesto, despertabais un magnetismo sin igual entre todos los seres humanos básicos que os rodeaban, al igual que las peores de las conjuras.

Ella se sentaba en el regazo de los jefes que la entrevistaban, pequeña reina de los escenarios. Tú la recogías en tu chevy camaro. Sus gafas de lolita destelleaban con las antiguas luces de los peores barrios y tú fuiste feliz. Jóvenes, salvajes, huyendo de la monótona realidad. Nunca pudo durar, ¿verdad? Uno de vuestros espíritus degeneraría en el más extremo de sus impulsos. Vuestra unión no podía durar, estuvo condenada desde el primer momento.

Te dejaste llevar por tu parte andrógina, te alejaste y no le quedó otro remedio a ella que alejarse también. Eligió entre toxicidad y éxito. Estaba avocada al éxito. Siguió recibiendo tus cartas en botella a la orilla de su alma, tus logros y tus tristezas. Llegaban también restos de conchas, pedazos de vuestras antiguas aventuras, deseos, palabras. La mar de tu mundo le llegaba furiosa con tus desprecios y desaires. Nunca le enseñaste a nadar: pereció una y mil veces. Le mandaste ostras llenas de besos, le meciste en tus aguas salvándola más de una vez de las rocas. Ella tenía la estúpida manía de dejarse caer del acantilado.

La amaste, inundaste su tierra con tu mar, escribiste dos palabras en la arena, creaste una tormenta destruyendo su todo, compartiste con ella lo tuyo. La sostuviste con tus brisas, volasteis alto. La ahogastes en lo suyo, le distes tú tu todo.

Pero acabó. Nada más aquella puerta se cerró detrás de ella de un golpe, cogió una gran bocanada de aire y la dejó salir, lenta, pausadamente, mientras los ojos se le anegaban de lágrimas y la respiración se hacía inestable. Sollozaba, al principio, profundamente, hasta que los pulmones comenzaron a agitarse y no pudo parar. Se inundaban. Lloró, alto, gritando, expulsando de sí el dolor tan profundo que la corroía. Pero aún expulsado, hecha un amasijo humano en la hiedra, el veneno seguía dentro de ella.

Su soldado había elegido otra guerra.