Anxiety of love

Slow torture that makes me look for
someone to talk to.
Bitter nostalgia that makes me feel
that my innocent past was happy.
I watch the people who seem to be smiling,
they all have someone to share.
A vagabond in the street sings this song
I feel empathy and I recognise myself in him.

Why this anxiety of love?
Why do I need someone if
my solitude is already enough company?

Have you cried some time when you were losing your dreams?
Have you been somewhere where the hopes dissipate?
Maybe then you can understand me.
Maybe there is a place where peace and love are easy.
Maybe man one day can be happy forever,
and walk naked and free.

Smile

Happy crying of the heart.
Shudder of the being.
Happy expression of an accomplice gesture
that transmits you a sincere pleasure.

Easy grimace of the human face,
sometimes difficult to pronounce.
It has an immense vital fury
that holds you to the strength of being.

Tender instant of pleasure.
Hope of something better.
Short moment like no other in which
soul and body smile.

Thirst for life

I have thirst for life,
I want to drink its water,
to drown myself in its taste,
to fill my senses with its power.

But loneliness dries me out,
takes me away from its flow,
fills me with its sadness,
blinds me as an unhappy drunk.

I have thirst for life,
I want to fill myself with its freshness,
to swim within its balm,
to stay within its pleasure.

But sadness hurts me,
burns me with its coldness,
damages me with its sourness,
pushes me away from its glow.

I have thirst for life,
I need its breath,
I wish to inflate myself with its air,
to fly among its breezes.

But melancholy strangles me,
traps me between its arms,
making me die instantly,
denying me its essence of being.

Stormclouds

Pain is close already,
black clouds wait
the time for the storm to approach.
Why suffer?
I don’t know.
If someone will be waiting for me later,
maybe I could understand
that sunshine comes after the rain.
Everything would be easier with you,
a hug,
a kiss,
and everything would be understood.
But no,
there’s not happiness after my cry,
only a vain effort of hope.

Pain is close already,
black clouds wait
the time for the storm to approach.
What can I do?
I don’t know.
If I look for you I can’t find you,
when I think I find you its not you,
this is the luck of my life,
to look for and not to find.
An absurd game fate has given me
that I could not yet win.
Thousands of times I have felt sorry for myself,
Hoping to believe myself strong and unique afterwards.
None of that is true,
only a veil that hides the truth.
But I have to hope or to finish it,
and I prefer to hope.

… maybe tomorrow the sun will shine.

This is how I love you

¡God!, this is how I love you:
with that blue expression
that the colour can’t describe,
with that sweet gesture
that the flavour can’t give.

Nobody knows where you are,
many say you do not exist.
But I hope
and waiting I fear.

¡Dammed!, this is how I lose you:
with that tender smile
that my senses can’t touch,
with that vocal body
that my ears can’t hear.

“Am I asking too much?”,
someone asks
and asks inside of me.

Yesterday I dreamt of you,
I saw you again and you left,
you weren’t there when I woke up.
The mundane routine will make me forget
what, in my loneliness, I will dream again.
God!, this is how I wait for you,
and waiting I die.

Filling me with love

Embracing you,
filling me with love.
dancing to the same song
that enraptures us with happiness.

Smiling with you,
kissing your lips,
playing in primitive joy,
that we make to our size.

Tied to you,
saying “I love you”,
feeling a strong heart
that is alive as never before.

Sailing with you,
stopping the time,
arriving to an endless finale
that has no beginning.

Yesterday's songs

Yesterday’s songs,
melodies that make you remember
past times,
other days.

Melancholy that cries,
nostalgia that shakes your innards,
far hours,
other nights.

Visions almost gone,
faces that maybe will not come back,
hidden yesterdays,
other people.

Smiles already lost,
kisses washed away by sweat,
blurred recollections.
other things.

Why don't you call me?

Why don’t you call me?
Why don’t you make my phone ring?
I don’t know if you know that I’m up to my neck in shit,
that it’s rising,
It will rise until it suffocates me.

Life would be easier if you’d phone me today,
everything would make sense if you’d do it.
We could go for a walk and drink some beers,
get drunk,
kiss and make love.
You could sleep at my house,
my parents are not here.
And if someone comes to bother us I will say mind your own business,
that this is our dream,
that you are my girl,
my angel.

Why don’t I phone you?
Why don’t I make your phone ring?
I did other times and the dream was broken,
I have already phoned you and it was for nothing.
Maybe you think I’m not your kind of man,
but you haven’t given me the opportunity to prove myself.
Maybe you have already placed your bet for another,
it hurts me to think about it.
But that one culd not give you what I have for you.
My proud fight with my loneliness.
Today’s songs are not happy.
The melancholic summer’s tedium hits me.
I feel myself smelling like shit.
and the shit is still rising.

Why don’t you call me, my darling?
Why don’t you take me away from this, love of my life?
If you knew how I need your kisses
you’d do it at least for compassion.
I think I am dying every moment.
I am suffocating,
I die
Why don’t you call me?

Dreamer of eternal love

I feel like writing a song today,
making it sound so it can reach you,
because no-one else matters to me.

I haven’t asked for many kisses,
but always they have been denied.
I cannot find your lips,
that flavor of eternity that I’m yearning for.
Forsaking all and drowning in you,
this is what I want.

Sometimes I look at you and I seem to recognize my other half,
but you deny it to me.
And I want to kiss you and prove it.
I don’t know if you are afraid.
Is there another in your life that makes it complete?
Could it be me?
I feel you are frightened of something,
if not you would let me in.

When you go and everything is finished,
when your face disappears,
and in my memory only a “why not?” remains,
a hazy woman,
then I will look for another kiss,
other lips,
a possible other love.

I am a beggar,
a dreamer of eternal love,
a pariah lost in a strange world.
I need you.

Bustling silence

I want to provoke the silence to listen to my machine of life.
My insides make the energy of the person that I inhabit.
I breathe.
The heart makes the red rivers of my being flow.
I exist.
From my brain burst the words of my voice.
I feel.
Voice of the soul that I am,
of the being that stays on the paper.
There’s no silence in this, my world,
words make the sound,
the bustle of the solitude.
And so until the end,
until the red rivers run dry and my insides rot,
then only my message will remain,
code of letters that my voice will read for another.

We refuse to listen to ourselves.
We mute the internal voice with external sounds.
We annul this exclusive identity for external confusion,
We prefer to get lost than to find ourselves.
To find frightens us.
The absolute silence is our fate,
let’s enjoy now this unique and personal bustling silence
Let’s discover a machine of life like no other.